Punk 57

by Penelope Douglas

I miss you every day, I write. You’re my favorite place.

Eventually we all have to weigh what we want more: wanting back what we had or wanting what could be. To stay or to risk everything to move forward.

Anything to not need you, Anything to not fall for you, Anything to look at a girl who’s not you, But baby, there’s nothing but you.

I don’t know what I did, but it had to be something, because when you find that everyone hates you, it’s not them. It’s you.

Alone, Empty, Fraud, Shame, Fear, Close your eyes, there’s nothing to see out here.

A picture is worth a thousand words, But my thousand words slice deeper. What doesn’t kill us makes us stronger, Fuck that. I’ve become a hide and seeker. Treat others how you want to be treated, But what if tonight I want to be burned? You told us it’s better to be safe than sorry,

And little sister listened, but I was the one who learned. Reap, reap, reap, you don’t even know, All you did suffer is what you did sow! Necessitate, medicate, eradicate, resuscitate. Swallow your Pearls, but for me it was too late. Do better, be more, too many, too much, I’m about to fucking choke, I can’t force it down. So string up the little Wisdoms and wrap them ‘round my neck, I’ll strangle myself with your Pearls of Wisdom and die a wreck.

“Life is fifty wrong turns down a bumpy road. All you can hope is that you end up somewhere nice.”