What the fuck is it with me

Having to write something down

Every goddamn time I think of something?

Every time someone pisses me off

Or when I talk to him

Or when I’m just looking down on myself

I’m tired of feeling powerless.

I control and contain every feeling I get

And throw it on paper like that’s all it’s worth!

Where does the madness end?

It’s like I’ve said everything possible

Like I’ve slowly been draining myself of

Things I feel.

It’s like every deep thought has been used already.

And like a dirty tissue,

You just don’t use it again.

I can’t use it again.

I just feel so angry because

There has to be a reason for why he didn’t try to see me

When he was finally able to.

WHY?

And this isn’t even a fucking poem

I’m just saying shit.

It’s like I need someone to talk to

But as always…

No one is fucking there

But a keyboard and a word processor.

That’s always who’s fucking there.