it's bad. it's bad when the stupid lyrics on idiot radio stations pull at my heartstrings anyway and my aloofness is no longer effective so i break down anyway. it's bad when t.s. eliot's wasteland i know like the back of my hand and sanskrit is a livelier thing than the parts of me that used to beat. it's bad when sunshine looks like crap. it's bad when the delightful cries of little girls and their songs and their silliness just sound like noises behind the static of this sadness. it's bad when none of it's worth it. when none of me has ever been worth it. when the things that are worth it don't make this part any better or easier to take. it's bad. it's bad. |
Monday, April 9, 2012
bad.
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Ah, friend....it does get better, in just tiny little increments, and even when you feel like, or actually have, moved 5 steps forward, then 6 back...but I will say, this was a beautiful and moving poem that I was very glad to have read today.
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