Some nights I just want to stop breathing For a little while, And forget everything: The heartbreak violence, oppression, Misguided intolerance. 25 years young Still writing love songs But they fall on deaf ears. Is anyone even listening? It seems I've been walking Down this path of tears For eternity. No one can find me, Hiding in my insecurities, Gasping from asphyxiation. Here, there is no oxygen; Just the scent Of death's temptation.
There is something about humans
Who are so unapologetically themselves.
So at home in their own skin
Unperturbed by others’ opinions.
They speak with effortless eloquence;
Their demeanor radiates confidence.
When I meet such rare specimens
I fall, almost immediately.
Sometimes, they notice me.
But my words escape as a whisper
Of myself, I am only a sliver.
They usually notice
Before I try to insist:
I was not always like this.
And as assuredly as they appeared,
And I am left with more fragments
Of myself to pick apart.