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A poem
Writing poetry,
I eat
I drink coffee
Eat a little biscuit,
And do it over
Again
I love my coffee at the cafe
As long as they give me my favorite biscuit
And with a sip,
I feel content.
Happy.
Like this is where I’m supposed to be.
A brief state of clarity in
A war
It’s as if the Nazi’s still exist
The Nazi is me
Extinguishing any bit of myself
I have left in me
There’s a war
I thought maybe he could see me
He could come in with his arms
And save
Those parts of me
It’s a quiet hell though
That’s the difference between me and World War Three
No one knows
No one hears
Only him
I think I have to rely
On him
To save me.
They ask me why I’ve changed
Why I’m different now
Not as funny
The thing is no one has asked
But I have imagined it
I have low self-esteem
He’s the only one who helps me
I wonder if I love him because of that
Or because I love him
I do
I know
But I don’t know who it is
That is me
I wonder if he knows
Maybe he knows what I’ve shown him
I don’t know who I am
Maybe one day
I will be free of me
I don’t like being
Me
I don’t like it
At all
sometimes.
