(November 3rd,2023)
As I'm dyeing my hair
To support someone
My inner trauma tells me no one would do this for me
They aren't wrong
My struggles are always my own
No matter what they are
They only matter if I'm holding a gun to my head
Or holding pills in my hand
Or taking a heavenly ride
Not the moments I feel my world cave in
I'm not sick with cancer so none of anything matters
But then again it's November...
Too much loss in this month
My whole world has shattered time after time in November
When I say November feels like death
I mean it in the most gruesome way
It feels like everything I hold dear doesn't matter
First year without...
Second heavenly birthday
Every single death date in this month makes me want to scream and beg god to just chain me to a tree and let nature gut me
I know it'll hurt less then November...
Less than remembering everything...
Less than living....
YOU ARE READING
Your Struggles is What Creates Your Depth
PoetryA collection of poetry,and random thoughts written when I was struggling to find my way.
