I’m trying to feel better
But every move I make
Every word I speak
Just reminds me
How I can’t love you
How I can’t tell you
All the things I have inside
How I hate myself
For falling for you
How these past months
Have been brutal
How I can’t seem
To get over you

And every second that passes
The more I realize
That you’ll never come back to me
And that I missed my last shot
At happiness

Moving On

It’s a miserable feeling finding out something you wish you hadn’t
when you love someone, or at least you think you love them, and they used you.

Never had they loved you, but they continue to sorry you and please you,
as if nothing was wrong, but you have courage.

It’s a horrible pain in your brain, your heart, your very lungs that give you air,
to know that you were not special, as though you thought you were.

And that feeling of happiness, twas only your feeling, not his.
the way he held you, you felt loved, he felt nothing.

You were something special at the time, and now nothing, worthless, dead?
numb, but you continue to fight, for a love that is not there.

Darling leave this edge of death you put yourself on, save yourself, for you are special, just not to him.


Anxiety lingers in the corner of a dark room.

It never leaves.

Its darkness always haunts its victims.

No. Matter. What.

It clings to the back of the most vulnerable person.

Its claws sink into the back of them.

Constantly, whispering into their ear.

All of the things that are terrified of

They spit their venomous words into their vulnerable ear.

The victim’s ears perk up

Their mind races

Their eyes hit their feet.

Anxiety wraps its dark arms around their ears.

Feeding lies into their head

Feeding them terrible little things

Anxiety wraps its legs tightly around their chest.

Making it so every time its victim has to speak to another human being

Their chest feels heavy.

They feel like they can’t breathe.

They just can’t talk.

Anxiety makes their hands shake with every single movement.

No matter how little the movement is

A pencil will tremble in their hands when they think they are still.

Anxiety is a terrible monster.

That clings to every vulnerable person

Never let it cling to you.

Masquerade Mask

We all have many masks,
I have enough to make a mast.
With all our many masks,
how do we ever have a blast?

My many masks,
have many different pasts.
When others walk past do they only see a mask?
The everlasting past of each and every mask,
leaves an always remaining gash.

All these masks and everlasting pasts,
how do I know when something should come last?
We all have many masks and a gruesome past,
but we all have a last layer under our many masks.

Do you think you will ever let all the masks go to the past?

Fast Forward

taking the escalator
and not the stairs.

reading a summary
before the novel in case
it’s “not to our tastes”

planning the invites
to the book launch
before the first chapter’s
even been edited.

everyone’s living their lives
on fast forward and I
can’t even find out
how to press play.