i like to pretend i'm happy.
i like to dream that i was more than a dark bathroom
And a cold shower.
It's okay, i tell everyone.
But my calloused hands say otherwise.
As if anyone can be okay
With their sand paper soul-
Sometimes i wonder where my heart goes
When i'm not carrying it around.
Sometimes i wonder
Who would fill my journals with ink
If i were not the author
Of my future.
i pretend i can write a non depressing poem
But i'm a burnt out factory line
Held together by duct tape and cold memories
Stamping ink to paper
In a mindless spill
Of the emotions i thought i didnt have-
How can depression take so much away so quickly.
My energy well has run dry.
i find myself dreaming of my pillow when i'm away
And staring at the ceiling when i'm not.
i find my head spinning
My mind is a set of vultures
Circling my life
Where the sand is my dreams
And the sky is my thoughts
And the clouds are my sanity
And the sun is my savior
i'm a cartoon outline
Left behind to crumble
This oasis isn't cutting it anymore
i act like water is a need
When really it's just a catalyst
Shaping me
i'm unfini-