F*ck Confessions

This isn’t a confession

Because if it were

It’d be an angst filled song

And I’d be rich like Lindsey Lohan

_-…-_

Sure these poems,

Something I’ve never had a thing for writing,

Are filled with angst and hateful lines

But do not call this

A confession

_-…-_

See I have nothing to confess

For I have done nothing wrong

(that you should care about that is)

This is more so

To calm my mind

And give me something to reflect back on

_-…-_

Why do I want to reflect

When all I’ll find are

Tear stained pages in a notebook?

Well I was asking myself the same thing

And I’ve decided

I want to be able to say

(despite what others may claim)

That I was there

That I tried

That I held their hands

With my equally trembling one

That I didn’t just give up

That I made it to hell

(now I just have to work my way back)

And I screamed

“FUCK YOU!!”

At the top of my lungs

To all of those

(we all know people like this)

Who dare say I have it easy

To those who think my life is perfect

_-…-_

I work so damn hard

To keep from breaking down

When the times get bad

(and at most cases they are bad)

Because I know I have to be

strong

And I can’t let my friends

Give up on life

_-…-_

So don’t call this a confession

(to hell with those)

For I have done nothing wrong

(the police agree)

This is simply my way

Of letting out my emotions

Instead of using something sharp

To make the pain go away

_-…-_

Besides, if this were a confess

(which it most certainly isn’t)

I would feel lighter writing these words

…

…

…

…

…

…

…

…

…

…

…

…

…

…

I feel like I’m drowning.