PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

My own emotions are the death of me. 

Give me that switch to control the weather in my head.

no longer alone laying awake in my bed. 

I cannot grasp my own thoughts. 

give me rain. so I can drown in it.

flood my parade and wash away everything.

baptized in my own sweat and tears. 

from all this work that it takes to keep myself sane.

pain. gain. for better and for worse. 

stuck driving in reverse. 

circles. trace my thoughts. 

with these trails of blotched ink stains. 

everyone remembers the name. 

but the story is getting distorted.

numb to all feeling. I stripped myself of all these dealings. 

drink more. care less. 

reminisce over that black dress.  more stress.

 its been a year. I still care I guess.

keeps me from moving on. 

we still sing that terrible fucking song.

stuck in my head until I am dead. 

recorded in my memories. 

trapped in the corner of my mind. 

this is not how my life was designed. 

but I still believe in my faith

that goodness takes place. 

but this hard work is not even close to paying off 

everything that shattered and fell from my brittle foundations

how much more time until this rigid frame collapses. 

Conversations with myself to break the silence. 

cower under the sound of my own voice 

to hide all this pain

driving nails with my grinding teeth

arms to short to reach. 

distance to great to achieve. 

a kid going no where fast.  

so I pour myself another glass. 

and hope one day all these feelings will be in the past.