Masks

Sometimes I question my path
My goals, dreams, future
Why do I keep doing what I'm doing?
No one cares anyways, it's all for everyone else.

Sure I love what I do
Sure I do it for me, most of the time
But what is the point if no one is there to see the view you've painted just for them?
What if it doesn't even matter to anyone but those involved.

I'm questioning if I'm good at anything at all
All it seems I'm good at lately is putting on an act
For everyone else.
Not me.

All.
For.
Them.
And they don't even care.

Can't let go

Sitting
At home, alone
Just thinking of how to trip you up,
To make you fall for me again.
About how I miss the days when you told me I was beautiful
And where I could call you mine
And I could talk to you without censoring or feeling crazy.

Then I get a message from him.
He's crazy and obsessive and slightly creepy,
but when I look at him, and the way he does things,
I realize I'm almost like him.
Trying to force you to love me
When you just want to be rid of me.
And I can't bring myself to change
And to finally let you go, go, go.

Not really over

I feel the keys under my fingers
I hear the words in my head
I know I shouldn't go down this road again
But somehow I justify it again
and again
and again

When will this cycle break?
When will I accept that its over
Never gonna happen again
He doesn't love you anymore
as if he ever did
he probably never did

So my heart shutters and fails
And my mind shuts down and cries
But my fingers move to push me
Down that road again
and again
and again

The Music

I sit listening to the music

I let the note of someone voice float over me
overtaking me

Wishing that I could do what they do
to break out and write something masterful
but I can't

I don't have the creativity
the style
the brain power
the skill, drive, talent

Not to do something life changing
like writing a song
that will mean something to someone, somewhere

But I'll keep trying
and wishing

For the music to come to me

I lied

I made it over
the mountain
breathing
gasping for more air

The sweat on my palms feels like slime
and my legs are
numb numb numb
and my heart races

My bags are packed
and I'm ready to go
but ready to leave you behind?
I don't think I'll ever know

One of These Days

One of these days
I'm gonna break for good
and no one will have a chance of fixing me

I'll be how I've always been meant to be
finally
shattered into pieces

Then anyone can have me
anyone and everyone
all at the same time

But no one will want me
anyways
I'm no hot commodity

I'm just some lowly girl
who sings
and writes stupid poetry

Digging

I dig
holes for myself to crawl into all the time
and my nails sink into the skin on my arm--
not really a meaning

The tears don't fall, though I feel them build and build
but they hide, they grow, they tower
but they never come
and my break down becomes invisible

Because--
I. am. breaking.
inside I'm falling to my death
from the top of the world
to the bottom of the ocean.

Falling, falling, falling
like a child in a game
except there's no joy here--
not with so much to lose

I'm not going to make it over the mountain
I'm going to teeter on the top
I'm going to explode--
out over the country

and no one will find all the pieces
not ever
even if they looked
which I doubt.