it will pass i assure myself
i liken it to having one's support system down by a quarter
and how am i supposed to face you when you're always so mean
it adds up it adds up it adds up
i can't speak to you
what more is there to do
to be shrouded in anguish
to be hurt and torn
nothing will change and this will repeat itself
as my worth won't even amount to your pinky
i'd rather reach a sooner demise than be in the company of the rich man complaining as a poor man
of the immoral playing innocent
by willing my heart to fail from the lack of warmth
i'd rest easy knowing how it profoundly saved me
for there is plenty solace to be had in my mind's tricks
and though it makes me sad, it would never be what living outside does to me
it will pass i lie to myself
YOU ARE READING
an air of stately melancholy
Poetrymy desperation and longing is rotting me. i cannot be both patient and happy, nor pleasantly hopeful without derangement. i make life anguished in the meantime to scorn myself. what you see here are some things i do when i think my desperation into...
