Dental Floss

There is a boy who tries to scream to fill the empty hole that was once his confidence,
hollow shell trying to stitch up what is left behind with dental floss,
make a constellation out of the left over atoms,
oh he is a ticking bomb that if you cross the wrong wires he will implode,
taking out himself,
until he is just a stain on your carpet that will remind you of all the forgotten words that you meant to say, red caked regret, sorrow filling your hourglass,
clumping the little bit of sand that you had left,
all you have left is the note and afterglow of pity from people who pretended to care, too little too late.

He’s just sad about the time that you promised to take him to the park,
but forgot when you started to seep into yourself,
broken trust and misplaced eagerness form a concoction that one would call a disaster.

Hours of therapy,
and still caught up in the thin sheets that used to be your future together,
cocooned in a veneer that can’t be stripped away by a little pill,
a little sting to take away the side effects and not the thing,
don’t you know you have to get the root?
If you let it stay then it will keep coming back over and over and over again until you don’t know which way is up, and which way is down,
tidal waves of worries, and rain checks when all you really want to do is scream out that you’re not okay.

Well good luck with that, you’ll probably end up like me.