Under The Sycamore

Things im too afraid to say out loud

For an assignment, my teacher asked to write down why I like writing
I guess I like writing the things I wish I could say out loud
Like how Im a victim of my own mind
Lost soul divided from the world by my lonely
I walk around like a zombie
A creator of my own catastrophes
An implosion of my self worth
Gone by simple words
I created a monster in my head
Made from my depression, anxiety and stress
And a lot of other things I can't name
I think hell is empty
All the Demons are in my head
Use reckless emotions to guide my every movement
So I let its fake love persuade me into my non existence
Sometimes the worst place I can be in is my own mind
I mean
If you can't wake up from the nightmare, maybe your not asleep
I think a lot about death and dying
There's so many possible ways I die depending on the choices I make
I know the choices I'm making
I know the ways I'm dying
I'm jealous of the dead
Only for the way they have stopped breathing
While I'm still chocking on thin air
Sometimes I sit on my bed and stare at the ceiling for hours
I'm afraid of the whatever is inside my closet
I think I over rationalize the things going around me
I have a slight thing against society
But that's a topic for another day
I really believe that there's a monster under my bed
It holds my hand sometimes when I'm sad
I like talking to myself in the mirror
Me myself and the ghost inside my apartment have weird conversations
Halloween has always been weird to me
You go around dressed in whatever and ask strangers for candy
Why?
America is strange and I've been living here for half of my life

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A lot of my poems are more performance pieces like this one. Hope you had a good Halloween and a great first of November/All saints day