my coat feels too formal
it's monday morning
and my heart is breaking
already
the rolled up sleeves
of my sweater
bulge out
makes me look as if
my skin gathers
at the bottom of my upper arm
above my elbow
today i'm quaint
my knit sweater doesn't
shield me from the wind
this iced tuesday morning
i stand at the bus stop
shivering under my breath
i have a certain bounce
in my step
my bed lays vacant
and unmade
in my idle room
the cement roots
into my heels
"stay"
i realize as i walked
the door
that my clothes were
extremely lint covered
whatever
people will judge you
no matter what you do
there is no escape
this weeks weather
is strange
the day starts cold
and get warm throughout
the day
kind of like me
i hum
i feel like something died
in me
while i was sleeping
my body is uncomfortable
why is my skin itchy
i don't deserve anything
or anybody
this thursday is
off to a rocky start
the bus dips into the
bumps in the road
harder
and softer
simultaneously
compared to yesterday
why do i even try
to exist when music
isn't an escape
but it is a cage
i wrote these little poems every morning this week to document myself, today was a reverse sequence compared to how it usually goes, or was it? ~tyrel
YOU ARE READING
flecks of charisma
Poetry(old bad poetry don't read pls ahhh) flecks of charisma is a quintessential guide to not knowing how you're feeling, not knowing how to deal with it, but knowing how to adjust your life around it. some days are tough and some days can elongate into...
