Conversations With Myself

I’m having conversations with myself

That I’m too scared to say out loud to others

Afraid of sounding desperate for attention

I’ve learned my lesson from playing with fire

 

Picking up my pieces is like

Counting stars

I lose track of what is right in front of me

Collecting dust and pretending it’s diamonds

I’m tired of hiding from everyone

 

Mental illness isn’t pretty no matter how much

The media glamorizes it

You cannot analyze something you do not understand

I’m taking a stand

But fighting your own demons is hard to do alone

And f*ck I feel so alone

 

I said it out loud

I feel so alone

They say that home is where the heart is

But there are parts of me in people who

Are no longer worthy of my kindness

I’m not blind, but naive

Easily deceived into thinking that

The good guy always wins

 

I’m having conversations with myself

That need to be heard

Hushed whispers from closed doors

Train whistles lingering in the air

Desperate for one more lone passenger

 

As though the night is closing in around me

Like hands cupped too tightly

My sanity slipping through the cracks of my fingertips

We’re all hypocrites

Aren’t we?

This poem is about: 
Me

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