i’m so bad at talking to people,
my feelings get stuck in my throat.
they ask me what’s wrong and i
rush to persuade them that i
am the best i’ve ever been,
even if i’m hurting on
it’s how i’m made,
it’s why i take much easier to pen and paper.
the paper does not have to understand me,
it only has to absorb the ink i’m bleeding.
and for that, i am grateful for such a companion.
yeah, but you’re lonely.
no i’m not…