The strings that attach me To this world Ground me Yes they sometimes Keep me from flying

The medication is not me But neither is the sickness it tre… You may hear its effects In my voice In my opinions

You might know her As blonde eyes Or as the sister who bakes cookies But you see I don’t write this

I need to tell you How to survive With our disposition It’s okay to cry Maybe

Look in the mirror What is it you see? Hazel eyes above your Favorite black dress Looks clean and fresh

Restless As I lay in bed Trying to fall asleep These are my clues I might be low

The news hit me Like a punch in the gut I threw up two times From the pain Knowing that I

How can I write how I feel When what I feel is nothing? How can I tell you what I need, What is wrong? When what is wrong

I wallow in my sadness As it pools up It has not swallowed me Who floats above its surface This surface

Why can’t I choose to be somewhere in the middle? Surrounded by extremes Measure everything With a grain of salt

The ugliest shade Of green We envy The car The job

Pragmatic me Doesn’t like this girl You can’t depend on her Too complex to understand She cries at the worst times