O’s and 1’s

I don’t like knowing the last time I’ll see you was the last time I saw you

Just another memory, fading into the recesses of my mind

Melding into that silently throbbing haze that makes up my experiences

This is how I will cope, this is what holds me

Has held me, throughout the years

Words and thought and ink or 0’s and 1’s. 

This is a poem to help empty the sadness from my bones, the ache from my eyes

When I rise from this bed, perhaps I’ll feel a little bit lighter, having left some of my worry here. On this page, and scattered about the ether

I’m not surprised,  I’m mad.

Mad I allowed myself to get here

 Allowed myself to be cracked open, by my own damn crowbar 

I wish my heart listened to my brain

“Stop. I don’t want to feel this way. Stop it. Stop it. I don’t want to feel this way. Stop.”

Pools from my mouth, forming a puddle on the floor, 

Nothing but another mess for me to clean up

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