Pain overflows
My tears
Have nowhere else to go but down this buckled and broken road
Where your own flesh and blood
Isn't enough
Nothing was and will ever be enough
For some blessed soul to stop and pick me up
In a truck
Hug
Like we're not strangers to the hurt
That burns
Whether we planned this performance or not.

Can I show you my cracks?
Can I show you the map of tears on my face
Aged with shameful crimes
Named after the times I've jumped the gap
Between crying
And dying inside
Every sob I let out
I risk another bullet to my life
And all because they can't stand to hear
Their perfect daughter
Sound like she doesn't know how to suck it up.

They think I crave this spotlight
And they're right
But wrongly so
Because no one wants to hear the grief in my bones
So I can only imagine
How disjointed I sound
Like cutlery, silver forgeries
A dissonance of haphazard emotions
That don't know how to count the increments
To make it from an ugly seventh
To a perfect octave
Like instruments without their conductor.

I
Would give anything
To learn how to sing instead of cry
Take lessons from the night
Become soft and empty but beautiful all the same
Not like the rooster who's known
To shake the world from a blissful sleep
And display our pain
In harsh daylight.

Bleeding ears, after all
Can't hear through the make up
We wear
Because the world likes to think it's easier to pretend
That neither the audience nor actors
Will care
To catch the broken notes
That echo, and echo, and echo
To fall to the floor, forgotten.

Lately I've been picking up the habit of writing whatever I feel like in the moment, rather than pondering for something to write about. Wonder if there's a difference in the way it shows up.