Brookelyn Walker


Truth Is


This doesn't help
I don't care anymore.
Haven't for a while now.
I'm not okay.
I'm not tired.
I'm a liar.
I'm fucked up.
I'm numb.
I'm stupid.
I'm just a copy.
I'm not orginal.
I'm not unique.
I know there are others.
There are lots.
I can't find 'em.
I gave up.
I need someone to talk to.
Do you know what the truth is?
None of it matters.

Submitted: Friday, January 03, 2014
Edited: Tuesday, January 07, 2014

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Poet's Notes about The Poem

None of it does. I don't care or worry about anything. I don't regret things the way normal people do. I get over things too quickly. I shut people out. I have a Dissasociative Dissorder, I don't care about things. I just shrug and I don't care about consiquences. When I am half asleep I regret things and run away from things and such, but when I am awake I walk through things numb and I don't care.

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