2021-11-06 20:19:05
to nobody in particularyou definitely know the nights like my last one.
it was that obnoxiously enlightened type that leaves
with feeling evergreen and empty.
once i lied about being happy and kept repeating it
for a few years out of habit, sustained it
like a bond that had been long undone.
maybe such thesis sounds a bit disheartening,
especially to the closest circle, but i reason that
i would get better at treating myself, if i was kinder.
but i am not the kindest.
sometimes i forget to feed my cat, and still
she keeps coming back to sleep with me.
i question this devotion as well as faith in higher entities,
for whom i'd gladly do something, if i knew they cared.
i am not the kindest. will only do good for the care.
somewhere they said that growing hair is spiritual,
so i guess cutting mine shorter suggests i believe in
nothing or gravity that pulls cut hairs to the ground.
you may have screamed at your mom today.
you might not be the kindest but being loved
perhaps makes you more worthy or tolerable, at least.
maybe poetry shouldn't be that materialistic, which means
blood should also be accepted only in red pencil strokes.
it was the common colour of mistakes at school, and
you still haven't got rid of your paperback spine that
crumbles every day at the thought of being wrong.
isn't it deep sadness that rules our culture?
isn't it sad albums that we keep playing in full?
they could have written a happy song but happy
equals boring and hasn't got that much to say.
isn't it fascinating how she had a song described as
a real cry for help?
but maybe it's a cry for help only if you don't want to
profit from it.
maybe such thesis sounds also a bit disheartening,
especially to a broader circle, but i reason that
long sad poems were really the first to get me
into all of this.
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