i am so sorry
because it wasn’t your fault—
it was set to fail

my apologies
for your words really did help—
i just could not see

though you did not see
the thoughts requiring this,
i know them all once.

to me: i’m sorry
i did not push away lies
so they were believed.

Welcome to the age of
“Go ahead and share your problem
As long as you already have it under control.”
The age of taking ahold of reality
And making it your own
Because it “can’t tell you what to do.”

Welcome to the period of
“Anything men can do,
Women can do while bleeding.”
Feminism is equality,
And it is the future—
A future much brighter than where we are now.

Welcome to the time of
Feeling every emotion possible
And not being ashamed to be real.
This time of having heartfelt talks
Because “what you feel is real”
So “we can talk whenever you’re ready”

But what if my problems
Haven’t been looked at yet?
And what if my reality is
A place of blood welling up—
With a threatening blade.
Because I’m drowning in my suffering.

How about when I need
A protective wall surrounding me
From the awful hurt I feel?
When all I want is a manly hug from
A brother or an oh-so-special man.
Can your woman still give me my shield?

Am I the only shell of a girl walking about?
If heartfelt talks are on the menu,
Then why can’t I ask about my shortcomings?
The ones that no one knows
But I still allow to define who I am.
Rid me of this sorrow in nothingness.

Will we ever discuss the real question
That needs to be asked and answered?
How do we fix ourselves
And reverse the dimensions of society?
Can we stop the empty sadness
That all to many face?

Relapse.
Is that what this is?
I’m drowning instead of breathing again.

Relapse.
Is that what this is?
Because I’m feeling more awake than alive.

Relapse.
Is that what this is?
Because I no longer have feeling inside.

Her hands were all too there,
And I felt their every move
I’m not comfortable.
I’m not comfortable.
We’re supposed to just be friends.

Is this claustrophobia
Or some secluded depression
I don’t like it.
I don’t like it.
How will the story end?

Maybe I’m just paranoid—
Repeating everything for conviction
You aren’t like this.
You aren’t like this.
I just need to get through the night.