sometimes
I hate my mom
her voice and everything in it
can sound like nails
on a chalkboard
the way she's so ignorant
of her own darkness
the way she acts like she knows everything
and assumes everything she doesn't
but sometimes
I love her more than anything
and I do anything I can
to fill my free time with her presence
because there's so little of it
and I used to lay for hours at night
crying profusely as paranoia
claws at my skin and rips me to shreds
because sometimes all I can think about
is the sound of metal bending
and debris flying
as her heart stops
and my world falls apart
and I cry and I cry until I can't anymore
because I know the loss of her
would be unbearable
yet I still find ways to hiss at her
and lie until my skin turns blue
because I wish I wasn't able
to see all of her
because I see more than
she does
and I wish I could tell her
but I can't
because anxiety is the strongest duct tape
and, not to mention, the deadliest consumer
of words.
YOU ARE READING
maybe i'm dreaming (COMPLETED)
Poetrya sky full of poems, none of which connect (stars without constellations) this is a compilation of almost every aspect of my life in poems, as well as some fictional elements too i hope you enjoy my cemetery of secrets -lowercase is intended for sty...
