Suena

The other night I got a little drunk. Then I got really upset by something someone said. I stayed up all night long, maybe an hour or two of sleep (bad idea). My dreams backfired though when I did get sleep last night. That's not why I'm here though.

When I stayed up, bawling my eyes out for how everything in my life seems to get so fucked up, I was pacing around my kitchen, smoking cigarettes, and every so often I'd pick up a pen and write down something in my notebook about how I was feeling. I just felt like sharing what I wrote. It's not even poetry, and nothing witty or cool. Just felt like t yping them up. Maybe later I'll be able to turn some of them into poems, who knows.

At my deepest and darkest moments, there is no one.

Have I always deserved to cry?

You were always the one who knew me, the only one I let know me. Out of everyone to whom I've been true, it was you, so tell me, do I deserve to cry?

God, why don't you answer me? Have I sinned so completely that I deserve no love?

Have I been so unbound by others, that I'll never make a good mother?

Has it been my choice, my right, my freedom? -- to go home to what I own at night
Or my fate, my path, my life.

I cannot blame you completely, I always fall every so often. And I do not give you as much credit as I do the devil.

When I have no one to call, I call on God,
and when he doesn't answer,
I write poetry.