futile.

i just need life to slow down
i’d be okay, even if it doesn’t stop completely
just declare that it will slow down soon 
because it’s panic-inducing, the speed at which time currently flies by
so tell it to slow down, okay?
please?
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short & stressed (just like me)

my stomach is in knots, you see
tangled up hopelessly
do this, no, try that, but i
always just wanted to get by
old beyond me years
too often ends in tears
and i cannot help wondering
is there a ‘me’ that’s not blundering?
and i cannot help wishing
that i was never me.

scared of a time when I’m not me

sneaking into the night
the darkness is a comfort of mine
says the one whose definition of comfort
needs an amendment, instead of just “hurt”
feeling absolutely nothing
no pain, no gain, is that why I stand so still?
I hope that if I mimic a statue enough
I will
vanish

but still i scream into the wind
wondering exactly what makes a friend
care so much (so little)
so, so much
repelling’s instinctive, it is what I do best
aside from putting them through every test
and I scream into the empty air–
what about me makes people care
so, so much?

crawling back from a fight
you can’t win against your own cursed self
says the one whose definition of win
sums up to not committing a vile sin
feeling everything
all pain, no gain, is this why I ache with feelings?
I hope that if I sleep often
I will
vanish from this world

time, time, is what I shriek to you
you have no idea what I really do
I steal your dreams and replace them with only me
and what am I but not good enough?
this is what I feel so I rub it in your face
time, time, is passing
and you use it, waste it on me
you foolish, foolish child

screaming,
I am a thief subtly bringing you closer to me
stealing rags and riches intangible
I am an ineffective excuse for a weaver of dreams and falsities
have you not noticed, already?
have i not stolen enough from you?