This is what I want my life to be...
I want someone to hug ape and tell me I’m appreciated and I’m not dramatic and I deserve this and that and I want someone to care
You could never feel my story
without giving me hell.
And you might not believe me
so I'm never gonna tell.
You've been there you've done that
so you know it doesn't last.
You don't care what's coming for you,
you're still stuck in the past.
You know happiness lasts,
like a train leaving track.
You'd never wanna fall
so you'd rather step back.
The fall is a wasteland
whose bottom is filled with grief.
You're hung up on the walls
of your own disbelief.
And the halls are empty
in your griefs disguise.
The echoes of your sorrow
don't bother any eyes.
So you dance fiercly on carpets
of the things you did wrong.
And sing this world a lullaby
you call your final song.
For when you stood by the corner
or hid under the bed.
For when you won't carry your miserable,
you'd rather play dead.
Now you take out your pencils
and set the books on fire.
And burn all their bookshelves
and fulfill your desire.
For knowledge is volatile,
it slips if not taken.
And not to be ignored
and never to be forsaken
title suggested by @that-stressed-out-chic
Margaret Atwood, Morning in the Burned House; from ‘Half-Hanged Mary’
solitude