myimpulsivethoughts

sunlight in your eyes

swear i’d die a thousand times

just to see that again

oh, you shine so bright

“maybe another night”

you know that i’ll be here ‘til then

my brain tells me that i’m boring

so you must think so too

i guess i’ll just sit and think

of something else to do

it always feels

like my work is never done

and i quit my job

back before 2021

so why does it seem

like i’ll never get a break

i’m pulling my hair out

when i should be

in a better mental state

you hang around

in my sink

so much so

it’s hard to think

and every time

that you’re put away

you show back up

another day

all you’ve ever known

was home after broken home

i wish you didn’t choose

to make one of your own

what if i stopped

asking questions

constantly seeking

external validation

and started trusting

myself enough

to already know

the answers

i want

so badly

to be like them

calm, relaxed, poised — content

if i had a safe space

to write about these things

where would i start?

where would i begin?

it’s your birthday

and i’m in the worst way

sitting here crying

feels like i’m dying

wishing things could change

i tell them i’m okay

there’s nothing else to say

it all feels the same

i wish things would change

why did you go away?

if i lay here long enough

among the trees i’ll become dust

whispering winds that move the brush

rustle the leaves it sounds so lush

and if psithurism is all i will be

i hope you’ll sit and listen to me

find comfort in my dancing leaves

and know that now i’m finally free

things seem to be taking time

god knows that i’m taking mine

sink and drown but i’m just fine

i’ll marinate in this teary brine

it’s hard to tell the difference between

whether i’m letting myself heal

or letting myself rot

while i’m sitting here

breathing

there’s not enough room

here for me or my

i’ve got pain stacked in boxes

eighty miles high

if you were here

i swear that i’d start to get better

i would pull my shit together

my heart is tired of being weathered

if you were here

things might start to make sense

living wouldn’t feel so dense

my lungs are caving inside my chest

growing up

meant growing tired

and i’m growing away

from any growth at all

i’m growing old

and it’s growing on my last nerve

maybe these are just

growing pains

how could i know —

will i ever grow?

feeling so uncomfortable

sitting in this skin

wish that i could shed it

evolve and start again

washed up or out

mangled about

tangled inside of these doubts

the eternal bout

i always said

i’d rather be alone

now here i am

nothing — unknown

i think at this point

i’d rather be alone

isn’t that how i’ll end up

when i’m nothing but bone?

the saddest thing

is that she doesn’t believe in herself

when everyone else does