insignificant

teenage angst has paid off well [a . h .]

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6. nothing new

My poems saw me crying at four in the morning,

them themselves started getting depressed too

I told them I just have some problems that need sorting

and that I couldn't help but be blue.



They didn't say much, only shared certain emotions.

Poems usually work as my personal potions.

I was hoping they'd work their magic again.

But nothing will help me, only I can.



I need to step up, clean up, and keep going.

If my heart needs stitches, good thing I started sewing.

I don't need anyone, I can't expect help.

So I'm going to be a role model for myself.



I wouldn't wish to be a bother, so I shall never ask.

I need to pretend to make your friendship last.

But unlike you, if you need me, I'll be here.

I'll do my best to be the cure.



you loved me, yeah, that's what you said

but you act like you wouldn't care if I was dead

You ignore my emotions as if they were gibberish.

You act like you're hungry and my sadness is the main dish.



I hope Heaven has black construction paper and white crayons.

Maybe freshly sharpened pencils and watercolors that are neon.

Notebooks with tons of potential and my breath mashed in every page.

And music notes rammed in my head with the voice of my mother filling the space.



Stop thinking, stop dreaming, stop being this hurt.

Stop seeking, stop scheming, stop trying to make it work.

"You know what's funny?", I laughed, obviously tired.

"No, what?", she smiled with this kindness that's been wired.



"I've called a suicide hotline over six times this month.", I looked at her face.

I added,"No one really cares, and that will never change."

She whispered, "That's not true."

"Yes it is. And it's nothing new."

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