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Late Nights

A poem

By Conor MatthewsPublished 2 years ago 1 min read
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Late Nights
Photo by Lawrence Hookham on Unsplash

I can't live with myself,

But who else will put up with me.

I can't leave well enough alone,

But I also can't just let things be.

You remind me to breathe,

Take a breath, dear, in out, in out.

But what I really need,

Is to stop being nice and just shout.

I could blow out your ear drums,

If I really really really didn't give a damn.

But I could be on the news,

Running from the guards; on the lam.

There's nothing romantic here,

Tortured artists don't exist.

I just wish I could live my life,

Instead of having the urge to resist.

I wish my god was real,

So I wouldn't feel bad believing.

I look like I'm go lucky,

But luck can be deceiving.

I'm careful to make the words pretty,

So you don't get alarmed while reading.

Because so far no one's noticed,

And I'm careful to keep breathing.

It doesn't get easier,

You're just still alive.

It doesn't get easier,

You just have to strive.

I'm in the midst,

And I'm fighting.

It feels like I want an excuse,

To start biting.

I'm losing myself,

In a sea of everyone.

I'm drowning, screaming for help.

But I don't see anyone.

You'd think having voices,

Means I'd have company.

But it's proof that,

I'm in fact alone in reality.

I have everything I could want,

And then more still.

So why at night,

Do I feel I haven't got my fill?

sad poetry
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About the Creator

Conor Matthews

Writer. Opinions are my own. https://ko-fi.com/conormatthews

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