Talk To Me

It’s days like these when it’s hard to cry That you can have healthy Conversations About death Even when it hurts to talk Or move Or the reason you can’t cry is worst Than curling up into a ball And reminding incapacitated For the rest of your day If you’re like me and feel as if The only meaningful conversations you have Are when you’re in this dysfunctional state Of hysteria Than this simple concept of conversation Is not just nice But necessary Though the tiest days Prove to be hopeless There is always light In the darkness so bright That it’s more blinding than it is blind To be able to have a functional conversation Can be the point between life and death — Continuing a pointless legacy Or succumbing to your thoughts That are impossibly More Useless Than the ones that bring you Fractured joy Lost love Empty promises Friendships that prove to be If little importance now that you have What? Common sense? How about a shred of intelligence? Self preserving knowledge Is not Simple dished out You must merit it And I did something to deserve it And I threw it away My whole life I’ve seemed to hold The false belief that it’s me Against the world But I’ve come to realize that it’s not quite that I’ve been holding onto a partial Superficial belief about society Sure Society sucks But so do I I have no reason to believe that my person lump of cells is Any better than his hers or theirs It Just Is So no I’m not only at war with those around me But with myself to an extent that I had Never Fully come to process And this all started With a conversation