it's become obvious,
im engrossed in just trying to get rid of my feelings
to the point of not proof reading
dropping them out unceremoniously
and without much care to grammar, punctuation
i don't like to write much anymore
it's become less of a coping mechanism
but on the flip side, it's become a requirement
just to feel a small bit sane in the world
of unfair days, shittier nights, and awful afternoons
i don't want to write because im obligated to
i don't want to write to do so little, to be less insane
i think this may be the end of what used to be
and the end of me using this expressionary platform
especially to show to those near and dear
as there's noone in such a spot anymore
let alone someone who cares much about me
or my writings.
i don't know if i'll get my spark once again.
i miss the days i could really care about my writing
put tons of love, care, thought, and attention to it
but i guess the people still listening,
not that even those close to me listen so faithfully,
will hear nothing but radio silence for a time
and maybe
my odd ramblings will be more coherent
but i think it's time i find a new want, a new will
though i doubt i can find something as nice as this
it will feel much better to put my effort,
although ive figured out my effort isn't much at all,
into other devices
i hope i can see you again my friends,
some day soon.
sincerely,
graciously yours,
and forevermore,
however you may know me,
February Friday, cavetown∆χ, leaf, bokku, hanguri, box, deliboober, and finally, Delilah.
YOU ARE READING
I'll Be Fine (pt. 2 of 2)
Poetrypoetry showing my stress. relieving, coping, really. continuing to add poems, sometimes daily. use this as place to talk about your own frustrations and dances with pain and strife
