This sadness that they say can be beautiful, what sadness is this? Because my sadness rips me apart from the inside and there isn’t a thing beautiful about it. My soul is numb, and I am desperate to feel. In times of distress and sadness, mornings are no longer forgivable, and waking up isn’t ideal.

I’m out of bed by 15:30 today, open the door, looking out to the field, and all I can feel is so much pain in my head, so much pain in my eyes, I need to close the door again.

I understand why people take flight from bridges
I understand why a girl holds a blade to her wrist,
I understand why a grown man cries counting all his lists.
What I wish for the people to understand
is that in these fragile moments,
when there’s so much pain
so much sorrow
Blame, aggressiveness, finger-pointines does not help.

Instead,
patience and love are needed most.