Stagnant and morose
as I transition throughout my duplex.
From chair to bed, bed to chair
staring at the wall and screens
Doing nothing, nothing I need to do.

Coffee at night and pills in the morning
and my therapist doesn't know me
like she should.
It's my fault, I suppose.

Articulating how I feel isn't my thing,
but it's a passion.
I understand everything I can't see and hear.
I just can't seem to breathe when I try to speak it.

It's pretty sad when "Guys my age" by Hey Violet
is a song I can understand.
I'm way too young to be feeling alone.
I have love and I'm still so ******* lonely.

I want to matter.
I want purpose.
I want my parents to love me.