The pieces never fit to begin with.
Given fragments of things that don't match;
they weren't even close...
Wanting rain for every moment,
lost in a place with no way out,
absolutely oblivious to how we even got here.
Staring out a window,
wanting desperately to leave
and find a new home,
if there was one for
Hidden beneath the blanket,
refusing to look at the world so far away,
or even something less distant -
my own reflection.
Couldn't look into my eyes;
there was nothing to see anyway.
Nothing but uncontrollable anger,
a throbbing in my head,
a fire in the middle of the ocean,
where nobody even cares about what happens...
whether it extinguishes on its own
or thrives, destroying the very things
that keep it alive.
Nothing but an eternal sadness,
a storm that never calms,
a constant, unending disaster
churning and writhing through forsaken cities
of thoughts that were once pleasant,
and once... mine.
But not anymore,
not the pleasant ones at least.
The greatest things were memories,
vague and partially fictionalized.
These thoughts I have now... They
are not mine.
They are the product of a society
where the fault is all mine,
the mistakes are all mine,
everything wrong is all mine,
and everything everyone hates is
But these thoughts...
These thoughts are anything but mine.