yesterday was the day to plan the future
but it was hurting beauty
bleeding blue into a sky scabbed with clouds
one that has seen too much red
balanced on razor horizons
where things always look brighter
like tomorrow
which may be just as suitable
to catalogue a life into segments of
sleep wake sleep wake
until solely wake
with words of others stumbling on how
you were great
though you were sick of the place
and how
you were kind
though you didn’t like their stupid voice
and their tendency to overgeneralize people
and how
you were you
which you would’ve liked to hear
if said by someone else
because most days saw you
unseen stuck in suffocating now
wondering fully
what is next
next is what
is what next
Mizpellt wurdz 
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