Grief Written

Long live the generation of pills and plastered smiles The ones with their problems dripping red on the bathroom tiles. Monsters in their head, And braided ropes beneath their beds. They have loneliness in their veins, And sip regret like champagne, Self loathing stories flicker in their eyes, what kind of teenager wants to die? They self diagnose. They self medicate . They're tumbling down quickly into the churning ocean of "too late."  On the surface they seems fine, Yet they are ticking grenades running out of time. What went wrong? Where have they all gone? This is the generation that didn't live long.

"What's wrong?" "Are you okay?" "Did I do something?" "What can I do?" You can leave me alone, But don't leave me. And I know that doesn't make much sense. But please strive to understand  I want to be left alone but I don't want to be alone. Because the answer is  "I dont know, sometimes I can't seem to smile because my thoughts tug at the corner of my lips." "I'm okay I'm just a little sad.  "No, it's all my fault." "Just love me." And sometimes I can't construct these answers around the lump in my throat. Hold your questions and hold me. I want to be left alone But not in the way you think. I don't want to be alone In my room Sitting on my bed  Staring at the ceiling  Wondering why I want to be alone with you Sitting on my bed Staring at you Forgetting why Just leave me alone. But...