I can't trace it, but its there. The words come and go. Not sad, but not content either. Its being content with not being content. Being okay with something your not okay. Its under the surface, like a monster ready to break the ice, as you stumble on skates. Stilted personas can fall so quickly. I listen to music, thinking about the Smashing Pumpkins song, lines about emotion i don't know. Reminded of the music playing. Reminded of the music i can't play. And it lingers. The thoughts. Spending your days worried about futures you cannot for see. It's not like i have anything better to do anyways. And yet, it's makes me feel the way i do. The word i can't find. The emotion i don't comprehend. Am i young or dumb? Cause i don't feel either. This isn't thought out. Nothing of mine is. Help me with talking, cause i still don't know. I just lay here, in the rink. Somewhere in the universe. What am i trying to grab onto? Im reaching out for space. This isn't a ploy, a well thought out pose. I'm not reaching for anyone, anyone but myself. And when i cant reach what i need. What i think i need. What i don't know i need. My phone buzzes. Melancholy? Yeah, melancholy.
From the me i don't want to be
-M
YOU ARE READING
A Collection of Thought
PoetryJust thoughts and stuff i have, but have yet to adapt into songs. A basic concept. High key inspired by Ryan Ross's Livejournal
