She’s at a place where she feels trapped
As the mist rises and her sun is crying
She cant help but feel alone
Alone is a place were she’s been forced to feel
At home

She cannot recognise a noble deed
And allow that memory to take her
Instead the fear of being unloved
And hardly good enough
grip her hand

With every word
she is paranoid and annoyed
and triggered
into retreat
into alone
a place she calls home

they roll down a familiar face
warm and comforting
Its because she couldn’t stay
She wanted to, believe her

Believe she wants to be a better her
But she clings to alone
As a familiar face
A childhood case
That she needs to shake
She loves alone but hates it
She hates the time it gives her to think
About how unfamiliar the un-alone really is

She wants to share but she doesn’t know how
She wants to talk but she’ll be misunderstood
She wants to love him but she’s making him numb
Her sorry self is a burden and the cause of pain.
She says she felt rushed but she is here now
More in love than he can see
And then then there’s the stabbing thought that he wants to be free
Now she is comfort crying
Alone.

Yearning
to be something i'm not
to be someone i'm not
Artistic
what does that mean
does it mean I can articulate my feelings  
beautifully
does it mean I can sing
or dance
or rhyme
or cry
or read
or breathe
or love
beautifully?
I don't think I can
how sad
that i'm not artistic
how sad

The ones I try
so desperately to please
Are the same ones
That have disappointed me

Why am I still seeking
Approval and love
In places where
I will never be enough

~

I am
Unpoetic, for
Isolation built from self-paved
Solitude has wilted my writing's
Possibility for sweetness
And sugar-faked beauty,
But poetry is crazed
For a taste of
Vast feelings,
So here
I am-

~

Every evening in the moment where
the late night turns to early morning,
my mind becomes stuck
on the same loop of thoughts.
Over and over again they play,
just like a scratched record
that won't stop repeating itself.
The difference though,
is a record player can be stopped much easier
before the skipping drives one crazy.
These looped thoughts that haunt me
from 2am to 6am without fail,
might just drive me to the brink
of insanity.