I sound so hypocritical right now—
but I don't care, I don't know how.
Maybe I should drink, smoke it all away,
drown in the haze, forget the day.
Maybe then I'll find what I lack,
a piece of peace to patch the cracks.
It seems to help everyone else survive,
while I stumble, too emotional to thrive.
I'll vape, smoke, drink, get high—
chase the numbness, watch time fly.
Maybe then I'll figure it out—
why I'm consumed by fear and doubt.
Why I couldn't be carefree like them,
why I'd trade myself to be like them.
I'd give up my life, let it all go,
just to belong, just to show.
God, help me, hear my cry—
for I am so ready to die.
But if there's a reason I'm still here,
please make it known, make it clear.
YOU ARE READING
My Emotions & Feelings (poetry)
PoesiaHello, I do not write to appease, I write as a venting method, Therapy per say.
