The poems I ran out of time to send.

Comforting confusion?

Pain leaves without a goodbye, 

and my feelings have fled.

I wish I could understand, myself, others.

But, confusion dances through the air.

I am holding on to the last sheds of feeling, 

Whatever pieces I can try and stuff together.

Though sometimes the pieces break,

And I can't fix them...

I didn't get an instruction manual, or a free restart, 

This isn't a game, I can't win.

I stare at the stars and feel their shine,

The trees watch over me, look out for me.

An apocalypse of silence is prominent.

but, the most comforting thing is the silence,

It fuels my thoughts. Like wood to a fire, diesel to a car. 

The darkness hugs me, I can't be seen. Be stupid.

I remember back to when darkness was scary, 

but without it I feel vulnerable.

Life is confusion, but without confusion life isn't as interesting...