Rivers are the Veins of the Earth

Sometimes I start to cry for no particular reason.

We’re driving in the car, it’s a warm sunny day in Dallas.

There’s something stirring in my head and then I’m crying.

I cry at everything. Every time I feel that knife twist in my

Chest.

.

I have dreams of different versions of myself dying.

a girl so tired that she threw herself over a railing

or in front of a moving car.

I don’t know why it’s always suicide.

.

Some days I am joy incarnate. Others I wish I were dead.

So I need you to understand that I’m not tired because of work.

I’m tired because I am alive to see the sunset.

.

I can distract myself all I want.

But I come back to this

Every time.

.

You know, I think I’m the cheerful one in the friend group.

I’m the hopeful one, the youngest.

I’ve never really allowed myself to not perform.

.

Why must I always perform? I am no joke,

I am no jester, no king.

just someone who lost themselves at much too young an age.

.

All my mentors learn from me adults call me wise.

I wish I could tell you where to go

To be wise. but I do not know where these letters

come from. it may be god

or it could be the devil.

.

I think in every other life

I killed myself.

.

why is this the one the one I’m still alive?

.

I stood on the sidewalk In the afternoon.

Watching you chase the geese.

They had their wings up in fear and you just yelled.

my brother laughed. I felt like that little girl again.

Please don’t hurt the geese.

.

All my friends wanted to die at some point.

Like I did. like I sometimes still do.

.

I think a part of me died in my bedroom two years ago.

I think she went to the afterlife and I’ve been strange

ever since.