Acceptance (Page 4)

never (a poem)

there are days, seasons
when i am by myself
lost and overwhelmed

Beneath the black umbrella tops
their hearts beat in time
with each and every falling drop
of rain against the pine.

TW: Death

I flay myself
on the altar of art,
cut down to the bone,
break every last part.

I write it on paper,
type it into my phone,
share it with the world,
and feel utterly alone.

“It is what it is” applies to:

…a rainy day.
…when you forget the lyrics to a song.
…getting a hole in your sock.

Another family dinner.
Another empty room.
Another grieving parent.
Another lost too soon.

Incredible stories come from people of all ages.

Like every fool that has lived,
I tried to ignore, move on,
forward.

I never said it would be easy.

I will live the one life
I have been given
to the fullest.

Between me
and the sweet salvation
of slumber I desire,
lies the cat.