Coping with poetry
Sometimes folks tell you they're busy. Then they just disappear.
Friends vanish into nothingness.
You wonder what you did.
Wonder if you're just too much.
For this place am I too much?
This place sure feels too much for me.
I try to run and hide.
It hurts people.
I try to be open and connect.
It hurts people.
I stay morphed into half formed heavily watered down version of myself.
So that I don't hurt people.
But that hurts me.
Maybe someday I will find those.
Who do not just vanish gradually into the ether.
Maybe someday I will find a place.
That does not feel like too much for me. And that I am too much for it.
I hold onto my hopes. But for now....I grieve.
Friends vanish into nothingness.
You wonder what you did.
Wonder if you're just too much.
For this place am I too much?
This place sure feels too much for me.
I try to run and hide.
It hurts people.
I try to be open and connect.
It hurts people.
I stay morphed into half formed heavily watered down version of myself.
So that I don't hurt people.
But that hurts me.
Maybe someday I will find those.
Who do not just vanish gradually into the ether.
Maybe someday I will find a place.
That does not feel like too much for me. And that I am too much for it.
I hold onto my hopes. But for now....I grieve.