Pain is all to real to pretend it doesn’t exist.
It exists deep inside, and resides in my bones.
Creeping out and radiating through my body at 3 AM
My heads vacancy sign illuminates
Inviting all sorts of thoughts and memories
Leaving me to try and wrap my head around the concepts that seemed so simple before.
It takes over every bit of my body,
Leaving me a miserable empty shell of what once was.
But there is a small strand of hope that I never let go of.
Strong enough to pull me back
Maybe the strand isn’t me,
Maybe it is you and it was always you.
I never know because at 4 AM,
Nothing makes sense and I’m trying to convince myself you’re still here.
That I’m still here and breathing.
Or I’m trying to make beautiful poetry about my sadness,
Because maybe it will make someone love me.
Maybe someone would appreciate my thoughts, jotted down.
In a collection of lines,
A collection of useless phrases.
They never make sense, never as much sense as you make.
But my sadness and misery isn’t beautiful,
It’s ugly, jagged, scarred.
It’s the blackest of nights, no light.
It’s the insecurity, the struggle…the battle.
The internal fight that never ends.
My body waits for the day it’s too weak to fight it
The days strength ceases to exist,
And there is nothing.
Only darkness. Nothing
As if I never was.