i had a bad day

i am coming apart
like thhe discs are forced together
i can feeel the pressure
it spllinters and breaks

i turn away to leave
i can hear the laughter
it chases me away
it pproudly taunts me

i turn to face it, and it has left me
i mmove on and it returns
it grabs my neeck
the Ggrip is firm

as it presses i feel as thoough
it must give way
the ddisks are slipping
as am i

when it becomes too strong
i want to scream
i want to let go
but my my grip is firm



Ok. I'm over it now. I'm not depressed or anything. I just had a bad day last friday. I jotted this down in a notebook. Yes, it's very bad poetry. It's overdramatic and under-creative. I hope none of my artistic friends read this, or they will even less of my creative abilities. I didn't write this for them. Or maybe I did. Or else why am i publishing it on a blog. Sometimes when you're hurting, you want someone to notice. I behaved like a little child last week, screaming for attention and making a jerk of myself. Sorry. More details coming soon...