Okay so below are a few poems that I've written out of boredom. They aren't my best work, and I don't feel like they are even complete yet. Nonetheless, it's mine and I'm proud of it. This week has been an up and down battle between work, mental/emotional capacity, and my own anexity/depression. Give the poems a read and I'll return next week bright and shiny again.

Random #1

Fight or flight.
When I look in the mirror I get a sudden fright.
Your standing behind me.
Your all I see.
The man in the mirror.
It's no longer me.
It's the monster that's been set free.
I hate you.
I've hid you.
Go away.
I'm done being depressed.
But you won't go to rest.
You keep on giving me tests.
The shit you throw is stinky and gross.
I'm tired of shoveling it.
I'm tired of smelling it.
I'm tired of it.
You hold me close.
Like a blanket.
Like a burrito.

Random #2

Jump high.
You may fall.
You may fly.
I'd rather die
Then never try.
The journey continues.
The struggles get harder.
But may your opinions never falter.
Continue to push.
Continue to fight.
Because that option of flight is never out of sight.
It's only a 50/50 chance
So may the odds be forever in your favor.
You could however:
Give up.
Lay low.
Forever live in sorrow.
I can't wrap my mind around that.
Being complacent with what life hands you.
"It's only lemons"
"It's only shit"
It's only….

The only It's only out of your mouth should be…

"It's ONLY my life"
And I choose a life.

Random #3

It never fails…
I always end up with the ones that are broken.
If it's not one things it's another.
I want to fix them.
Want to rid them of there problems.
But they aren't my problems to fix.
But that doesn't stop me from trying.
I can't mend a broken heart.
Only attempt to grab the broken pieces.
As they fall to the ground.
Racking my brain trying to figure it all out.
Telling myself that I tried.
I pushed through all the doubts.
But in the end I just fall out.

I'm not done trying.
This is just the beginning.
There will be another guy.
Another broken heart.
Another chance for me to love.
Or at least another chance for them to use me.
My heart feels like a punching bag.
My mind is a sparring match.
It's a constant battle jumping from one to another.

PLUR Regards,

Tyler Hurt




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