Shards of This Years Journal

Expectations coaxe fears into reality.

Hide behind the beveled glass.

Responsibility ruins entitlement.

Summer still hazy in my sights.

Falsely rose, greying at the edges.

And it seems there’s an obligation to perfection.

Building lives out of lies for strangers.

Feel incomplete because no one knows the whole.

Some thing’s forever visible in the perceptions of my character.

Rub on perfume to blur lines drawn.

Each complaint, an ounce of fuel burning my life away.

Stygian hope, buried and outstanding.

When hope shines, it reveals the virulent web of hopelessness.

Best to hide things you fear in the dark.

Meaningful things lost while drowning in practiced silence.

Chipped nail polish speaks louder than I do.

Fooled to believe success is the reason to live.

Can’t believe without a soothing lie at the center.

Violent paroxysms of doubt.

Have I been manipulated?

Manipulation hides behind succor.

Anger sharpened in the forges of your own insecurities.

Forming a suffocating cocoon of morasses.

So my heart undamaged by the world, is left empty by it.

Indifference right at my fingertips.

Clouds move, but trees speak.

Endless strings of pep-talks.

Not ready to face past selves.

Somehow gratitude is equivalent to happiness.

Snap in two sharper clarity.

A fleeting forever passing by in a blur.

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