Update

I am going to start posting on this again. I realized how much I miss venting through poetry.

The year was 2081 and there was noone.

The world was populated with many people of nothingness. Everyone like everyone, people subside to nothing, yet are alive and breathing.

Walls of My Skull

There is something very alluring about the silence I tend to hear

Maybe it’s just the thought of me capturing emptiness

Or soaking up the peace

When you're alone you can listen to the thoughts that scramble

Around in the walls of my skull

But the moment that silence breaks

That’s the time when you don't feel so alone

No matter how much I love silence, I will admit

The sound of it breaking is almost as enjoyable as the silence itself

The Sunday Morning Bug

Mornings when you crawl around your house

Staying out of your families way

And avoiding society

Sleeping hidden in covers

Those no makeup mornings

Hair gathered up high

These days are my favorite

Sunday

Can only be described as the time

The one special day

That no one would recognize you

Waking up at noon

Taking naps till three

Then crashing at your normal time

This Sunday morning bug

I catch it bad

But whenever it comes

I wish it wouldn’t end

I Mean It's Just Life Afterall

Whats the matter?

Are you sad?

Is there anything I can do?

Are you okay?

I'll fake all the smiles

I will put effort into faking happiness

If the questions will stop

I'll fake all the smiles

Fake all the laughter

Fake all the happiness

Just to get people to leave me alone

Yes something is the matter

I'm not sad I'm worse

There is nothing you can do

I'll be fine... for now