i've been searching–

searching through trials and tribulations,

searching through daily heartaches and struggles

to try, just try

to find the words that will most adequately paint

the swirl of my watered-down emotions and acrylic thoughts,

while somehow 

not letting those very thoughts and emotions

bleed onto and stain me.

cause I always thought 

that paintings were supposed to be pretty

but just like paper

all I’m doing is absorbing it all

pilling and becoming brittle–

I feel limp and weak.

cause nobody ever wants a torn, crumpled

used-up

worn-out

piece of paper.

i’m trying,

i swear i’m trying

to not let it overcome me

but I’m tired…

and i’m stuck

stuck in this place they call “limbo”

where all you do is go with the motions

but never have enough strength

to deal with your emotions

and leave,

just leave…

cause that’s always the easiest thing to do.

but people have always left you

which is why it’s so fucking hard for you to abandon this place

that you’ve been in your whole life,

i never used to be like this.

even though I’ve always lived here,

you would never be able to see the sadness

slashed all over my face

but i’m tired.

and I can’t help it anymore,

the clouds from the swisher are the only place i can find refuge in,

they help me float through the night,

and even though it feels too long sometimes 

its better than the morning…

cause then I’m back to that place

“limbo”.

where I muffle who I am

bind my hands behind my back,

plaster a smile on my face

and scream:

“I’m fine”.

because maybe if i scream it loud enough,

not only will I start believing it,

but maybe somebody

somehow

will hear me,

pull me out,

and save me

from “limbo”.