222 words

writhing around underneath my skin

pretending it’s okay

am i expected not to give in?

im starting to feel depraved

conversations with myself

and we both laugh

cause for once- we thought the same thing

no monuments will be left in my name

aside from the ones i’ll leave for you

and they’re all brand new

on each page

“history is painted by the winners, keep your brush wet”

trust me i have things to say

about needs that are never met

is it time to accept

i won’t ever have a big win

for an “artist”

thats a good thing

but for a girl

it’s a clock that collects dust

time can never be reset

so they say, trauma comes to collect

and collect it must

my bones are starting to creak like they’re under a film of rust

im only 23

why should i need to be so tough?

there needs to come a stop

i am starting to exhaust

so i think i’ll just go back to being

whatever the fuck i want

it’s like a build up

that never halts

i could go on

but i am a repeating song

i’d rather hit skip

please, to a good part

is anyone listening

or am i having a conversation with myself in an empty theme park

until i collapse a rib

-g.m.t.