You're Insane Poetry/Prose

19

I'm a hypocrite.

I am stupid for thinking such things.

For saying those things you told me years ago.

Those moments I'm closets are gone.

I am alone in this slate I call home.

I can't support.

I smile outside.

But

What you don't know.

Is that I'm dying inside.

I only find comfort in the books I read and the company of my art and thoughts.

I am not mad.

But I do know what I am.

A hypocrite.

And that's a label that's never to be removed.
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Nothin important. I'm good.