Thoughts11

I don't wear my heart on my sleeve
I rip it out and smear it on paper
Then shove it back in a rusty cage
Dusty from years of neglect
There it can decay a bit longer
Until it's needed again

I've never been good with sharing my emotions
I use poems and drawings
I sing
Or I think I do

Maybe I'm not good at anything I think I'm good at
I like to criticize myself

"You are your own worst critic."

I really enjoy seeing the other side of things
Through cynical eyes
It's numb
Everything is gritty

This
Feels
Good