It's been so long since I've scratched down a poem,

  that I barely know how to let thought run out onto paper.

All these emotions bottled up and I've seemingly

  forgotten how to take the cap off.

I've been thinking about all the pieces I want to write.

About love, and romance.

About fear, and sadness, and more fear and more sadness.

About loneliness that occurs in a room full of friends

About the constant nausea that accompanies waves of anxiety

About NOT being straight and about actually being gay.

About how much I hate myself.

This used to be so easy to do.


Everything used to be so easy.


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