why does the world sometimes seem to work against us?

why can we never get even the bare minimum of what we want?

why does it always have to be hard, all of the time?

why can’t it sometimes be easy, or better?

i wish i could grow wings

big fat ones, black and sleek and powerful

to beat up and down, to fly up

and catch roses and crumble them hard in my hand

to see the beautiful petals ooze from my fingers

just wishing

for some little thing

to make me stop crying

i’ve never wanted to grow up more in this moment

which is stupid to say,

because it only gets worse

it seems i am locked in a straightjacket

each year, with a different set of values

running and banging my head against the wooden door

i get my hopes up too easily

thinking that maybe kindness will prevail

but every time, every time

my hopes implode

because of others

leaving me with a debris that i must pick up myself

i think i know, deep down

that the mess will come

but i never seem to understand how to stop it

how to quell it

maybe it’s because

i used to only know how to feel



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