Poem 2

I think I'm not feeling well.

I think I'm not okay.

I think I may be ill,

But it's something I can't say.

I'm trying to get better.

I'm trying, but it doesn't work.

I'm trying, then I turn back into her.

The one with the dirty smirk.

Being good is bad for me.

Being good makes me sick.

Being good isn't easy.

My pen has lost its click.

It's hard to say what I feel,

It's hard to make the words fit,

It's hard to write something real

When all it is is bullshit!

Now it's hard to write the truth.

Now it's hard to write anything.

Now it's hard to deny the proof

That all my words mean nothing.

But that's the only way to get it out:

Admitting that it's true.

It doesn't have to be a shout.

Just a whisper will do.

Because you can't hold in the tears.

Because you can't hold back the bile.

Because you can't not confront your fears.

Take a moment to smile.