Dear Feelings,
I don't want you anymore.
You hurt.
No, I lie. I do want you.
There's a deep pain inside of me, and you help me to know it.
I'd like to know it a little less.
If you were showing me elation I would love you.
Instead, it's like I'm sick.
There are shots of happiness,
but I'm always hoisted back to the sickness...deadness
I find myself wondering:
Will it get better,
I feel like I've been tricked,
and now I'm deader.
But perhaps I didn't know the game, the rules, the rituals,
I tried to cheat and now the shame, it cues, I lose,
There are too many dues that have to be paid
too many realizations left unmade.
To change to leave to move
What am I?
What kind of fool?
