Poetica Vol. 02

.i am false.

The petty days begin to slowly pace, creeping and crawling, driving me out of my mind.

I often listen to my music, like I have a soundtrack to my life, but in reality, i'm just a mopey schoolgirl; staring down at the street, listening to the beat as the people's feet drum along.

My motivation wanes as the season and people change; cheerier, louder, brighter. I match my reflection to theirs, but it's false.

I'm false.

I feel content when i'm not alone, but company never stays. I tell myself grow up, you're fine, but somehow I know that i'm not.

I'm false.

My hair, my style, my persona, the person I reflect to others.

I'm false and I know it.

I listen to my music, I watch the street, I hear the beat, I see the feet and I feel the heat from my hands as I hold them against my face.

I let myself cry even though I don't want to. I broke my promise.

I'm sick of making promises I can't keep, to myself and others. It's a chain I can't break, i'll make the same mistake and I hate it, but I continue.

I just watch the street and hear the beat and see the feet and feel the heat and make and break and take the trust that I claim to keep.

I'm false and I know it.

Even as I write this I can't shake the fear that it's a lie. What do I feel? Do I need to heal? Is there something bothering me or do I just want to be bothered?

I don't know my own answers,
I don't know myself,
I feel false,
I am false.