Mess

Dang I'm such a mess
Thought I was good and blessed
But then I heard the footsteps of my regrets
Haven't answered anyone's phone calls in almost a month
Timia had to practically beg me to call her up
So much stress
All of my poems are turning into a mess
I can't write as much as I used to
Writer's Block told me to stop
I imprisoned myself, trapped and locked
Until I got inspiration within myself
To write more stuff and get out of this hell
Haven't been able to write anything in ELA
Thought I'd never be well paid
Even now, I don't know how
I'm writing right now
Instead of reading that book aloud
Inside my head that I got from the library
It's actually quite scary
Sure with her I still wanna marry
But right now our arguments bury
Every emotion I've had with her
I tell myself it's all absurd
I'll never get over her
But my subconsciousness
Tells me I'm not being honest
I'm in my own mental hospice
Timia, I'm sorry if I ever offended you with my journals
I needed to vent all of my emotions
And right then they seem to have exploded
Hurting you was not my motive
I love you, please don't blow it
I'm so much of a mess, I just don't truly know it...