One positive to come out of this
5 days of early Christmas
this misery festival
the output is varied and consistent
my thoughts wanting to jump on a page
while I forget every time
my thoughts can simply be mine
I don't have to share
indulge the compulsion
to bare my soul to strangers
stranger things have happened
like feeling a stranger in such a familiar body
does my body even belong to me
my name doesn't
and neither does my ideals
it's a collection passed down from media and different species
different intellects and beings
so break the news to me
who am I really
the label nobody haunts me so intimately everytime I choose to scribble it down
Am I hard on myself, maybe
but how would you portray yourself
quiet as a mouse
that until you're obstacle in someone's path
you're existence is unverified
a myth, a bigfoot in disguise
even though you shine a signal into the sky
a lighthouse for incoming ships
but all they do is bombard your shores
with their own wrecks and opinions
never cleaning up the mess
never helping you destress
while they always tell you tales of everyone else
someone else's personal afflictions
having you wonder to yourself
"how does this pertain to me
were you even listening"
How do I feel today
how I've felt all week
a fading figure in the flesh
a waste of space, a failure in his prime
useless and wanting like always
receiving nothing for selfish desires
silence is expected, never golden
embroidered on notery
saying living is easy but never free
feeling old rhetoric come back into reality
product of a fractured...