poem…
potential
is just shit I haven’t done yet
and probably won’t
maybe i was born
catalyst resistant
unhappily consistent
self loathingly persistent
and here I sit
in my alleged prime
just a number
where i can only be divided by myself evenly
your words
your praises
seem to only leave remainders of dashed dreams
and futile hoping
leaving me living all alone
in this crowded space.
depression has a strange sense of humor that way.
except i’m not laughing.
~Naturally Alise
