Fragility sits on the foot of the bed
in the small hours it's wide eyes
demand that I acknowledge it
I am a tenuous balancing act
casting a shadow on the headboard
within my shade resides fear and hope
a morbidly introspective self
battling shame and self-loathing
every failure recorded and annotated
with every success packed away
in unlabeled boxes under the bed,
Like a horror movie I know
there's something in the house with me
as I take down the pictures and
whatever it is it isn't death
because death sits on the sofa
in the front room thumbing through
old photo albums pausing to say
'Remember when we did this?'
while I nod and perpetuate lies
because I never see myself there
in those moments where life
was impossible to accept,
if I left the windows open as
I hear and smell the falling rain
my mind follows no logic or reason
it carefully repairs porcelain days
and ignores glass shard strewn nights
because survival requires denial
of all that I should have been
if I'd had faith if I'd tried if I had just...
and doubt paints every smile I give
as I wonder how I ever made it past
the despair and the horror of being
too deeply aware of the morass
that my thoughts sink deeper into
absent of the urge towards competition
because my soul refuses to believe
that I was ever meant for more
I wasn't meant to feel this way
this is not what my younger self
sought when it saw the future
it never expected to get this far,
Nights are the world I know best
I am just a passing tableau
of futility sitting awake too late
isolated from the world and staying awake
because then I don't dream
and I never believe that the new day
will bring another chance another hope
in the small hours there is nothing
but truths I carefully built
yousharknotpass
gummygunk
pixelskylines
gracieabrams
baratheonpilled
dailybridgerton
kianamaiart
jacobvanloon
snowghoul