“What’s eating you?” An old friend asked
one that had to leave before the friendship plateaued.
Of course I said “I don’t know”
but I do.
I’m itchy, squirming inside my skin
locked inside my body.
And when I pause for a minute to breathe life in
I go cold.
I’m sick of the people
I’m sick of the lies
I’m sick of the standards
I’ve come to despise
everything that makes us who we are
and also every thing we’re not.
I’m tired of waiting
and wishing on stars
and being placated
by dreams of afar,
I’m tired of acting
I’m tired of show
I’m tired of trying
only to please,
but mostly I’m just afraid
that it’s not them,
It’s me.