My environment made me this way.
It has made me volatile, self-destructive, and deeply despondent.
Yet I wasn't abused nor neglected.
Society's standards have tried to suffocate me into a state of submission that I struggle to silence.
I was never raised to be resentful and restless, but I have grown into these grievances.
Babel
I realized that I had flipped through an entire chapter without retaining any words.
My eyes had scanned each line of thirteen full pages without actually reading a single letter.
Thirteen.
I apparently had no desire to try to comprehend anything besides the blur of babel in my mind.
So I closed the book with a sigh.
Unreliable
I'm an unreliable narrator.
My stories are missing timelines and their details have been diluted by either drugs or depression.
Although that's probably for the best.
Why repeat what I'm urged to remember,
but compelled to forget?
Alley
Him
One night split my life
into two separate eras.
Before him and after him.
Detachment
I was unable to feel the detachment I so desperately desired.
Instead, I felt everything I had begged to stay away.
The anger. The jealousy. The unintentional longing.
All the unjust and unexplainable emotions that I had fought so hard to avoid.
Quietly
I hope that when it's time for me to leave,
I go quickly and quietly.
This world has deserved nothing but my screams.
Yet my soul will only seek silence in the end.
Guilt
Guilt is an awful gnawing thing that relentlessly eats at you.
And mine had become a painfully persistent parasite, rapidly growing as it fed off of my secrets and shame.
Devouring my lies almost as quickly
as my lies were devouring me.
Farewell
The unwanted goodbyes
only leave emptiness.
Plans are left half-full and
new days half-empty as life
forces us into a half-assed
form of acceptance.
The unfulfilled farewells filling
nothing but our sorrow.
Twice
I don't want to write pretty words.
I don't want to write words that are read once and left to sit politely on a shelf.
I don't want to write about the sky and the birds and the flowers that are just too pristine and perfect to be plucked.
I want to release the madness from my head.
I want my pain, my fears, and my ugliness to exist as words so beautiful that they earn their right to be read twice.
AO Poetry 
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