shadowed

77 5 4
                                        

You can do better is what they say
Not good enough is what they mean

Constant lying, a bruise of trust
'You don't understand' is lost in my sea of cries
As limits are pushed

Take the pen closet to you and scribble on your arm
After a while the ink won't come out anymore
But scribble it on paper and you'll be ready to ravage your arm again
I think I'm the pen

It's worse when she's around
Perfect perfection waltzes with perfect poise
Never mind I'm taller; she's older
Older takes control

Warm winter, cold summer,
Maybe we weren't supposed to be this way
Livin' in your shadow
every single day

And oh, maybe if the wind will blow
Maybe my ashes can be spread with the rain
I can be free of the pain
That comes with being me

I don't think sad can describe me
Nor depressed
Instead
Imagine a hole
Almost six foot deep
You don't know why you're digging
Maybe you're to plant something
No
You aren't good at creation
All the lines come out squiggly and not like your head
Maybe it's to bury something
That could be it
You're good at covering things up
And you're right in a way
You just don't realize your shovel moves to dig the ground from under your feet

They say hold on things get better
My question is how much longer must I swim
Before you decide to pull on that rope?
Did you forget I was drowning, and only saw me below you?
Was the rope-burn on my hands pity?
I can't climb. You took my legs long ago.

Maybe when the waves reclaim me, you'll feel some remorse. I doubt you'll know what for. Or remember that 'pretty face' you left to scream in the deep.

✿Aphmau Shitposts and Other Depressing Things✿Where stories live. Discover now