will i ever write
another six stanzas?
i can’t stand this,
my mind’s racing,
but stability’s
the only thing
i’ve been chasing,
last time we talked,
i thought my plans
would be greater,
but inner peace
ended up in pieces,
my reprieve
lasted a sweet 15,
say it ain’t so
but it seems
they were right,
nobody likes you
when you’re 23.
haven’t known
what to say,
i’m overwhelmed,
not trying to blow
anyone off,
but pardon my lack
of responses,
just not up
to talking,
i’m currently busy
banging my head
against a wall,
because every time
i think i have things
under control,
the solutions
start looking
for a problem.
i can’t even see
what i’m writing,
will these words
make sense
to anyone who reads?
am i just throwing letters
onto the page
with no regard
to how much sense
they make?
feel like i might as well
just hide my face,
never come back out,
for every step forward,
there’s five steps back,
i lost it all this year,
had it torn away,
and the only thing
that remains
is my paranoia.
welcome back.
