Sleep

So it seems the only time poetry is kind to me is when I'm honest about my feelings
I should have realized this motive in between my cold bearings
but it's so hard to grip truth when it's raining so hard and the railing isn't right for this weather
yes can that be my metaphorical excuse for being a liar?

The only time I seem to write mediocre but exceedingly better poetry comparably to the rest of my poetry is when I'm uncontrollably depressed
but I can't bring myself to write anything until I'm so strung with thoughts of you I Can't do anything but lay in bed
or at least that's what I say
to myself when I look at my smeared makeup in the mirror after a depression nap.

two days ago
I told my cousin she should stop acting fake around me
she told me I should stop being so intimidating
so I didn't reply and slept until the next morning
that is at least 13 hours of sleep if you were wondering
yes, even my family can't grasp my being

Now I'll be graduating
and everyone's been wondering why I can't be bothered with
pictures,
 handing things in,
saying goodbye

but I don't care
I don't care at all right now
I just want to sleep

so I don't have to cry
so I don't have to have a breakdown hexing your "why's"
blame it on being a teenager,
yes I'm sure questioning my legitimacy will cure my sadness
and blame it on anything you could find
yes I'm sure a lack of understanding must mean you're right

But I can't be bothered either way
I just need some sleep
some sleep
sounds
clean
some sleep
sounds
neat
I can't be bothered with anything
some sleep sounds quiet,
some sleep sounds pristine