I try to write about flowers

Sunny days and smiles

 

But it ends up about sadness

Lonely nights and wrist slits

 

The angst machine is real

And it tears my work to pieces

 

Taking perfectly good thoughts

And changing them to hopeless ramblings

 

The words I write on paper

Confront the things I can't say

 

The thoughts that whisper

In the darkest corners of my brain

 

I can't stop the angst machine

It will be present in my words for years

 

But I will try to be greatful

For the sweet release it gives me