I hope today is easier.
When you wake up half asleep.
I hope you forget to remember pain
you could have sworn you'd always keep.
Because the world loves you.
Trees root for your growth.
The poets are overflowing
with enough kind words for us both.
For a day which I hope is easier.
For tomorrow which will come with time.
For yesterday which was.
But a moment in life's ever rotating faceless dime.
For the sides of a coin play.
A hollow distant song.
Today will be easier.
And I hope that assumption isn't wrong.
Because it's been hard for a while.
My sleeves of my sweater are so cold.
Every day that passes by is another day lost.
I'm bitterly told.
And my feet are numb from sitting.
The tips of my hands tingle with pain.
There's few things more intimate than poetry,
but every effort of mine has been in vain.
Disregarded tossed aside.
It's getting harder to tell what's true.
How do you stay honest in a society
that rips the authenticity out of you.
I'm learning how to sew
to reclaim some of those spaces.
But I'm just a needle and a thread
caught in the trendiest of places.
Where they don't quite like sewing.
Where everyday is just lost.
Where authenticity comes at too great of a cost.
And my feet are numb from sitting.
But when I decide to stand,
I lean forward just to fall.
Damn it's hard to reach for a hand.
But what do you do?
If everything you know is a wrote essay,
"Unrequited longing".
Using you as their front.
You hope today is easier.
You wake up half asleep.
You stayed up too late crying,
regretting that your feelings feel so deep.
But you hug the trees tomorrow
and thank that they still grow.
And I hope that today loves easier.
But today is someone that I still don't know.
