voices

there are voices in my head
some days, they are silent
an unknown audience
that lurks, but does not speak
other days, they scream
worthless  they cry
not enough, not enough, never enough
i am never enough
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flower petals

a lump in my throat i can't swallow
and shaking hands that won't stop
tears that come in waves
like the tides
but never fall
instead my tongue
vomits flower petal lies
as if i'm not dying
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grey

the world is not in black and white
but in the thousands of greys inbetween
some days are pale, ok
others are charcoal, better left forgotten
some days my hands cannot stop shaking
and others are drowned out by droll apathy
sometimes, on the worst of nights
everything is ashes and soot
and i cannot stop to breathe
because breathing means living
and living means thinking
and when i think
i remember who cannot
become colorful again
and stays in the grey pages
of a book called loneliness
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the bell

the bell rings, and here i sit
in the middle, front, back of the class
all around me are voices
are laughter
but here I sit
false smiles and forced emotion
dazed by apathetic carelessness
the bell rings, and i leave
to start it all over again
is this what they call loneliness?
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perfection

'be better' he says
'you're better than this' she tells me
'you're above average, stop being lazy'
the talk enlessly
...
i don't think
i'm even able to be
average anymore