It was when I put on the music,
Japanese,
But I could hear the tone.
It's not about the small feeling of wanting to cry,
But the point that I can't be myself,
And really it's not like I ever could-
But I wanted to-do no needed to talk to him.
And when I did,
Things appeared further than I originally had drawn.
Nothing was to be changed when it didn't exist
Because it all really is just me.
You know,
I think,
At least I'm not suicidal anymore,
As I think alongside,
I would've wanted to jump from here
And joke, 'just off me',
But back again
To the beginning.
It's not about that sad feeling,
But the will to want to cry.
My face doesn't even appear sad to me at the end of the school day
On the car window.
Everything just makes me want to punch something,
But like I am,
My hand will just twitch
With its own will to curl up
In agitation.
Take me to a place,
Dear future boy,
To share we're both not hopeless for once.
I'd be grateful,
And in this world without friends
Or needles things,
Let us satisfy each other,
As more than friends,
In the way with emotions
Circling us of the center.
Just for once
Let me feel
Like it's finally 'my time'.
- April 10, '18; main revisions: April 13
#stagesofgrief #unstable #awkward
It's better to regret what you've done than regret what you didn't do--is what I thought. I did what I did in order to get over this aforementioned 'crush'.
YOU ARE READING
Poem's Majority w\ Short Stories Galore
Poetry"He proceeds; Without disuasion; To sneak; Lurk; And crawl around me." - Chapter One Includes the many poems, which are sometimes counted as shorts, that I have created and will create this school year (2017-18) and maybe on. They're most likely goi...
