editor

I have limited time to
teach myself to hide behind a mask
of heyhow'sitgoing?i'mfineweshouldhangoutsometime...
even though I mastered the art
years ago
now I'm haunted by
new messages
and the past I'd never ask to forget

my walls sing a softer tune
and I'm reminded of the times
I never had to worry about
my own mental health

once the machines took over
I recalled the times she taught me how to breathe
and how often she asked to see me smile
I'm begging her for the same thing
but she's nonresponsive
and I'm left teaching my tears to find my cheeks
and then disappear before I'm caught
showing my weakness

these streets are teaching me to stumble
keeping my eyes to the distant
memory of days when...