[APPLAUD ME. I finally put up a poem with a title that isn’t….as terrible as the other ones.AHHH.Why do I always write sappy poetry with sappy endings?I think I was born sentimental-trying to rid myself of it. But no, not really. I’d rather be sentimental than be….frozen cold.

No quote this time. Maybe I’ll find one…someday.

Writing a lot lately, and hoping to put it up soon,


we are muddled up prose-
the kind where
in the end begins the middle
not the perfect kind-the chaotic type.
we are thousands of words picked pell-mell
and thrown on a page
like my poetry
simply lines of words that scream out their feelings
like my poetry
simply exaggerated emotion.

we are a prayer
the sort that doesn’t know what it is asking for,
sometimes not even what it wants.
begging to be answered,
though it never will be
because there is something better waiting,
something more.

we are a problem
the kind I always get wrong
because I just can’t help but miscalculate
no matter how much I check myself, check my steps,
I never seem to see those mistakes,
even when they’re made and gone .

we are nothing
emptiness to fill the empty spaces
can you fill up emptiness
with so much of nothing
that there’s nothing left empty?

i don’t know.
i don’t know.


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