This is a very old poem I originally wrote as melancholic teenager. I am still melancholic in nature but my tone and style has changed somewhat in more recent years. I was always scared to share my writing when I was younger. I thought people would think it was dumb. Now I just don't care if it is or isn't, I speak from the heart. it's therapeutic for me and that's what matters.

Full disclosure, I did make a few tweaks..





Maybe it's the season,
Maybe it's just feeding me spite
But I can't give it a reason
And I cannot decide.
When I stepped out into the world
And felt its hard surface beneath my feet
I knew I had stepped out of my dressing room,
And the masterpiece of the play I couldn't beat,
But with my winning smile, I still tried.
And through my teeth i lied, a little.
Gave the scene a catchy tune,
But was still no match for the cats fiddle.

This is what blue days are made of.

When you feel like a circle pushed into a square,
And it rains for days, the laundry won't dry.
But on the other side it's sunny
Does that seem fair?
When you sleep alone because you have nobody,
And you talk to yourself because you won't talk back.
You painted a picture, and the colors were lovely,
But the rest of the world just sees the black.

Damn.

Maybe it's the lack of sunlight,
But i think this time my soul really lost its fire.
I didn't know we saw eye to eye,
Until I faked it and you called me liar.
This is what blue days are made of
When you built a tower with your own two hands,
With all the finesse of a Russian ballerina
But in return it just fucks you over.
When you chose to have guts after a bit to drink
But nobody wants to believe you were still sober.
When you want what you don't have so bad
You forget to appreciate what you do
When you said and did all the “right” things
Yet somehow you still managed to lose.
Blue days are made from things
Little things that leave a bruise
Regardless, blue days are part of the play.
And no one is excused.

© Leila Rose