| It’s only days 'till we miss him |
| And I’ve learned to cope |
| By dismissing a night |
| With alcohol and paper, alone |
| I’m too self-aware |
| Before we cared I should have known |
| That I’d kill myself in thought |
| Any mistake I’d own |
| I’m framing |
| Every picture |
| No smile on my face |
| Missed calls, so anxious |
| That I’d be judged in my ways |
| Who you told or not |
| How they see that I’m sour |
| To break all these friendships |
| Feeling viewed as a coward |
| And I’m not crazy |
| I’m feeling faults on itself |
| To say it sound try enough |
| To hold a guard on all else |
| So resentment is a quilt |
| We stitch anxious with memories |
| With a grudge we held at close to comfort acting as enemies |
| And I hate it This monster’s face I play in Scare the one thing I love |
| Squeezing 'til suffocation |
| Til I’m sorry as a person |
| Left with nothing to prove |
| But a chest filled with pain again |
| And regret for loving you |
| Hello |
| How are you doing? |
| Hope you’re doing well |
| Hello |
| How are you doing? |
| I’m doing better now |
| Right |
| I may be a bitter man |
| It’s probably better you left |
| If you could only see me now |
| How I handle the stress |
| I’m a shell |
| Nothing left to prove and still viewed in hate |
| With a someone like you |
| Personified by your face |
| And I’m taking flak |
| For everything that I could have had |
| And blame myself |
| Forgive you easily |
| That memory and pass |
| But a grudge says wait |
| OCD counts the days |
| Anxiety makes me pay |
| And saying I’d crack from the weight |
| I wanna say stay |
| But it’s not that easy |
| The damage is too deep for you to forgive |
| These chains won’t free me I see myself as sick |
| And don’t speak or sleep why’d I? |
| Unique and overanalyzing |
| It’s all the same, why try |
| I’m tripping |
| Past years I can’t grasp, the days |
| Blurred into weeks trying to sleep |
| Counting new lines on my face |
| Any mirror, I stay silent |
| They all fault when I save hope |
| Chose to trace your finger makes |
| Spelling out hate |
| And I read alone |
| How are you doing? |
| Hope you’re doing well |
| Aha |
| Hello |
| How are you doing? |
| Are you still bitter now? |
| Every moment we hush |
| Any touch to remember |
| To answer you honestly |
| I could be doing much better |
| But I’m at home |
| This anger is a bulk that always carried me It forms a blank at the wall with weight of me bury me A challenge is my air |
| My blood palms and |
| Next to cold sheets and sweat, awake |
| Losing what’s left |
| Becomes a blur |
| I fight the difference analyzing fur |
| With a hold that only you can piece |
| But you’re lost in my words |
| It’s all downhill from here |
| And we both know it For me at least with |
| But in poems you start showing |
| This is laughable, |
| Complements, act heroic |
| Within odds in tied with tippy-toe |
| I crash through, I’m going |
| Possessive |
| That passion turned, so I sit alone |
| Seeing your question of hate |
| Pretending why I don’t know |
| Reading your message, debating |
| How to reply, but it’s |
| No more testing |
| This will be my last goodbye |
| To your hello |