maybe i'm tired of sleepless nights
and distracting myself
with things
that used to work
writing stories
for some kind of escape
but coming back
to reality
hurts
and maybe i'm tired of breathing
when that's the only
thing i do
that, and think
bad things
and i'm just tired of the truth
i want lies
and a pretty world
where people are
what they are
i don't like all these
smoke and mirrors
and reaching out
in the dark
if i have to look
at the reflected
and see another bot
then i don't see
why i should be me
when i am clearly not
YOU ARE READING
nostrum
Poetry‣ nostrum noun { a medicine prepared by an unqualified person, especially one that is not considered effective } - = ≡ ___________ [ previously published as " pills and alcohol " ] ◂
