id say
some of the most emotional of my poems
are in isolated and new places
and here without access to many games
here as a horse lead to a mirage
vacation or relaxation
doesn't feel any way it should
seaweed as dry as conversations
trash washed up and declared a sore to public sight
the beach is good for thoughts
but it isn't for me
just as coyotes tend to falter alone
it's more torture without having contact
and having someone to reach out to
in case of my own emergency.
laura im gonna miss you so much.
zach i hope to talk again soon
ill be very honest
the rest of you i don't know how i feel about
you all feel surface level, and though i would revel in it
it's not much of an offer
especially when this feeling is not too disimilar
to death itself.
you know
ill come clean
i may be 18
i may never wish to be 14, though i feel so every day
i may have so many years
wondering what i am
wondering who i want to be
but no matter the 5 years ive spent knowing im trans
no matter the 6 years ive spent knowing im pan
no matter the time ive taken in living my best life i can
but i can't.
i don't want to do this silly thing anymore
i may hold my ground
and make it more clear what i want day by day
but the will isn't there, and it's to the point
every day i breathe, i can't find the point in it all
i can see the words of everything i see floating around
while their meanings are lost on me
any time i see or think of a gun, i can only wonder
what it'd feel to finish the job.
the anxiety that surrounds everything
was it something i said?
shouldn't i be dead?
what's the point in using my head?
add that to the negative hours of sleep
while i wonder if ill ever have a she
somebody that'll make them wonder "who is he?"
but yet it's more a point of not running into a tree
so i could even have the promise of such a "we"
and yet i think about this
so i forgot to say goodbye in the way that i wanted to
so buddy, close your eyes
stay like you're supposed to
wouldn't you want me to have another poem for you?
and while i don't know how im gonna live without
and i dont know if i can stay strong for you
i know i can confide in you.
and if i do
when i do
i hope your shoulder's free
for me to see that i deserve to be
seldom sad, fufilled the same
not dwelling on my "name"
and when my mind goes to maim
i just hope i can be saved
because when worst comes to worst
i don't know if i can make it by myself
i need you
i need people
i am social and i need reciprocation
authentic meaningful platonic love
as beautiful as a crystal wind chime
loud as a steam horn
funny how we say to take it slow
to the point it's all i know
why do we care when
what you reap is what you sew?
more is what we value
when we contain so little
with the advent of having your feelings recognized
to be complex is what everyone believes
and wants to see in themselves
what others claim to behold in them
the mirrors they look into are flawed
they aren't simple as they so believe
but humans, yes
humans are centered around self
self confidence and self image is prevalent
respecting and taking care of yourself is nessecary
the squeaky wheel gets the grease
but when to squeak? that's the question
how can you get help when it's clearly unclear
when it is you're supposed to ask someone
"can you give me a hand, a small boost?"
and have it be socially acceptable
shooing the questions of morality
and the worthy level of suffering
before it would be a taboo too desolate
to explore, by anyone's standards
so the next in line is the ever prevalent
"when will things end?"
as if we are a sitcom set
as if we're a tv show or series
as of we're a franchise
all too old now to stand the test of time
and may you be so pure
to think and bank on
the rocket ships we adore
to take us elsewhere
to prevent what we believe is inevitable
but what would be more relevant
and productive in the pursuit of contentedness
is WHY exactly things will end
and that's on the finality of human existence
Decker had a point in the thoughts he had
after all things are considered
the way we're put to shame
especially in such an abhorrent way
by simply closing our eyes
our heart stops beating
our lungs give out
our brain stops thinking
our muscles go limp
our eyes stop seeing
our skin stops feeling
we just seem to give up
no will left to sit here among the souls suffering
and while i fascinate about such a beautiful thing as death
why in such a way that makes us seem pathetic?
we aren't as strong
we aren't as smart
we aren't as mobile
we aren't as conscious
but to be equated to a dog
in the way we are put down
seemingly by outward forces
we rot so easy
we decay at the drop of a hat
it makes me wonder
what the point of waiting till the end is
when it hurts
it hurts now, it hurts later on, and it hurts when you're old
pain is essential in life
but sitting back
and letting it happen
isn't my style
i don't have the will to have it happen
so why wait for it?
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
