Poetry Diary (The Good, The Bad, and the Questionable Structure) - Libby Lewis

Poetry Diary (The Good, The Bad, and the Questionable Structure) - Libby Lewis - poetry 198

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poetry 198

[Sep. 8th, 2009|08:20 pm]

[	mood	\|	drained	]
[	music	\|	Tap At My Window - Laura Marling	]

I've got to stop picking up pieces of ripped-up times
I need to make new faces when people disappear from my life
But it's difficult when strain bogs me down
I am piled atop a mountain of regret and uncertainty
For what lies ahead, and I wonder if
It's all a pattern and a stupid illusion to a better day
I am in pain at the thought of assimilating
I am in pain because I've changed
But I'm strong underneath all of these fears
Yet I feel like I have nothing to gain
Maybe I'm just running away from problems
So that I don't have to face them at home,
Maybe that's why I'm away because
I want things to die without me being there
Expectations from all around drown my voice
I am quiet and occasionally smile
But it's not who I really am
They don't know who I really am,
Because I can't understand me yet,
I am just an ugly clown who has an awkward presence
No matter what town I'm in,
I seem too strange to fit anywhere
Like a broken cracker falling into water
Just slowly crumbling into mush
My brain defaults its actions
My body forgets what's important
And my heart tells me it's not into anything
That it used to be into.

So tired of jealousy and the lingering figure
At my window
Tapping consistently like a bird against a tree
And I fall hard when I jump
Because I listen to the problems
I listen to the words I don't want to hear
I keep them tucked inside a fold of me
I empty it out from time to time,
Just so I don't have to feel it burn through
The skin of your overcoat latches onto my arm
And I can't help but sink as I go down the tubes
Into a place yet again more unfamiliar,
More heartless and wild,
A place where dreams are calming, not overbearing,
A place where thoughts are appreciated,
Kind words are well-spoken
And a place where I can keep a piece of people with me
Without it leaving an after-shock of woe and hurt
All my fault..

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