Zelda Fitzgerald Knows Me.

Im not put together

as much as I need to be.

Home.

I would like my own some days

where I can be crazy and fucked up

in my own silence.
The steaming tornado that builds in my belly,

racing through my blood,

shaking my brain into

an angry, confused mush ball

confiscates my sanity for now.

I cant apologize for being born with

bad wiring.

I cant apologize for feelings

I don’t wish to have.

I wont apologize for your misconceptions

about my ability to shake it off.

It doesn’t come out like some

rabid squirrel in my pant leg.

Im stuck in here,

watching all of you

watch me

as I slowly cave inward and hope to

god it passes with as little damage

as possible.