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.
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.