still working on it

i'm working on it

i'm working on it

i'm

working

on

it

i've got my own brand of patriotism. it comes with nights of emptiness, where i show my true colours. the real meaning of independence. i'm hanging this flag as a warning for you to keep your range. it'll be better if you keep your distance. it'll be better if you just keep away. i am marching to the beat of a dead horse.

i let things that don't effect my daily life

effect me late at night

i take everyones worries and concerns

and downfalls and heartbreaks

and i fold them into tiny squares

and keep them all in my pockets

until my pockets are too full

and then i pull them out

one by one

and read them

analyze them closely

and delicately and tenderly

and they worry me and concern me

and break my fucking heart

i would like to keep them buried in my pockets

safe and quiet

but sometimes quiet things get loud

quiet is temporary

quiet can erupt and sting our eardrums

and when these folded pieces of paper gather in my pockets

they howl and they cry and they beg to be read

and maybe this means i'm just sympathetic

or maybe this means i avoid my own problems

by looking into others

of all the papers i pull from my pockets

none if it

and i mean none of it

is in my handwriting

maybe this is a sign to stop being so quiet

because it's okay to howl and cry sometimes

at least that's what i tell myself

most of the time, your feet are the same whether he's there or not

and most of the time, my feet were the same whether you were here or not

and i take it hard, i take it to heart, and it tears me apart

and i get so tired in that 3 o'clock sun,

it grows right on time, right in front of me