racehorse

01/52, 2018

The hardest part of being broken
is that it’s very hard to listen
when people tell me how to put myself together again
i want to scream

can’t they see that I like this?
the downwards spiral, the turning away, the cold and lonely nights
when i cry myself to sleep it’s the most alive i ever feel
because it’s the only time i feel anything at all

in a constant race for perfection
i stumbled before i made it out of the gate
shattered both of my legs
and had to be put down

there’s no room left for sad poetry
but even the nice ones i write
are tinged with the sting of two decades worth of failure
am i good enough yet?