I do not want
to be this person
this drooping
moaning, groaning person
who stares into space
and writes sad poems
while waiting
e n d l e s s l y
for levels
of chemical signals
to stop fluck-tuating
so flucking wildly
and let me grow old
in peace


not good enough
not fun enough
not good enough
not brave enough
not good enough
not sexy enough
not good enough
too shy
too blue
too much
too many
it rants and rants
around my brain
you ask am I ok
and my answer
only tears
no words
and oh so tired
so very tired
why must I
spin in circles
when my gravity
is here?