august

-

I never meant for August to be so.

Four days that took me by surprise,

Four weeks of hidden despise,

Thirty-one days I spent in delirium.


Whatever did I do...to deserve this?

Regret and lost respect and cruel fate.

August wasn't supposed to be so.

Begged, cried, and fought tooth and nail,

For something that never could've stayed,

For something that never left my mind,

For something that was never mine.


Nothing's mine anymore,

August has taken me from myself.

August has left me on the floor,

Gathering the pieces of me that I broke.

How long until I glue those pieces back together?

How long 'til August finally turns to September?


anxiety – Young Ink

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

Commit

-
Image
 He pulls me by my hand, making me stand on my wobbly feet.  "Come with me," he says, tightening his grip on my left hand. Perhaps, to the bystander, that grip was firm. Firmer than comfortable, but that grip anchored me. Reminded me of who I was and who I wanted to be.  Free. I want to be free.  I respond with the same fervor, pulling him towards me and wrapping my arms around his neck, the envelope fluttering from the movement. His encircle my waist, his voice echoing in my ears, "I want you to go with me," he says softly, his face buried in the crook of my neck. I shake my head, tears almost building up in my eyes as I fight my emotions. It was true. I want to go, maybe be with him. His voice calms me, his presence fills me with joy, his words bring me ecstasy, and his touch grounds me: but he was not who I wanted to be. He means captivity. I want to be free. "I-" my words begin without tallying with my mind, making him step back and look at me. The met
Read more

a bouquet of roses

-
Image
The smoke diffuses in the clear air, the ground damp from yesterday’s rain. Some faces have decipherable expressions — joy, sorrow, despair, cruelty, kindness. Some faces are like mine — with an unclarity so evident that it scares the bravest souls. I can’t even look at the pavement the same now. It’s scary how often I imagine the bouquet scattered on the damp cement, the wilted roses just a reminder of how broken I can be. The pink parchment not holding them together anymore as they get trampled on, their story a lost symbol of their lost fragrance.  Was I that bouquet to those I loved once? Held to their chests when I’m significant, yet thrown to the ground when I don’t make sense anymore? My soul lays scattered in a thousand shards now. You can’t gather me without scarring yourself. You can’t fix me without being broken yourself.  I don’t want to break you; not when you dare to glue me back together. Careful as you walk over my pieces, they are sharp enough to cut you. Would y
Read more

I am the Devil

-
Image
 I am the Devil. No, not the one you would think. I stay beside you every day, looking through you. Through your hopes and aspirations, desires and horrors: through everything that makes you human .  I give you power, unimaginable power that people couldn't have conceived before. I give you the freedom to get whatever you want, whenever you want. I bring the world to your fingertips; a single act of calling upon your wishes makes them come true. I make you the captain of your soul. Or, I make you think so... You depend on me. I laugh at your humanity, your illusions of independence and freedom. Do you really think you could survive for an hour without me, let alone a day? No, I am not in a cloud of blue, or a figure of red, I am there in the most minimalistic form. You don't even notice me slowly conditioning you into being my slave, but yes, I do your bidding— in exchange for your soul. And you give it to me. The minute I come into your hands, you can't resist my alluring
Read more