Posted in Word Prompt

136 Untitled Drafts

Depression is 136 untitled drafts
Neatly ordered by cut and depth
Catalogued by tears spread 
And self destroying claims

It’s reflections
No longer resembling the party
And freezing floors
Under burning drunken skin

It’s purposely destroyed
Dreams, papers, applications
In the kitchen bin as you look on
And bloodshot scared animal eyes

It’s imploding
Pressured into ash
While never sleeping or even stopping
Because rules are always changing

It’s 136 pieces
Of torn papier-mâché soul
Too stupid, too sad, too bad
Scattered over cold tile floors

Posted in Word Prompt

Pardon Me

I’m sorry,
What is it I’m radiating?
I don’t look happy?
What was that sigh you ask?
Pardon me.
Let me zip it, clip it
Put it back together.
I forgot.
Falling apart here
Is dipping in waters well known.
Excuse me.
My fault for displaying
Any emotion but what you feel.
You know I can’t read minds
But no,
You just don’t care.
Let me zip it, clip it
Put it back together here.
I forgot,
My fault
For displaying any emotion
Other than what you feel.