Blank pages upon blank pages
White and black
Yet, electrified with everlasting colors
Of the things I don't love about myself
Such as the seeking of validation from the woman I love
In the way of toxic questions that I know will hurt me
I suppose I dislike the way I isolate and shut down
For when I've run out of words
The stark air can be felt encompassing the room
For I am truthfully the elephant in the room in my mind
Not entirely belonging to one thing
Enticingly scattered like torn pages floating down the river
The judge, jury, and executioner with the sentence passed down
Too soon before the hearing
I suppose I write myself off
For it's repeated behaviors that I can't seem to shake
Like when the summer time ends and closing in
Ever so approachingly like the tide in winter time
To be addicted to the complicated things in life
That bring sadness and wave away joyfulness
Where our worries won't be far behind
Next to the classic novels, finding our lonesome-selves
Welcoming oblivion