Won’t You

This is a bad day,
the kind of one where the world
feels like red smoke
and tastes like hate-flavored sky.
This is a bad day,
where there is no do-over,
no reason why.
I feel taken apart,
taken down,
cold in the middle of my heart.
The exhaustion comes from wondering
if I will ever be good enough
and then deciding somewhere in there
that I don’t care,
but secretly I’m craving
your approval and attention.
Love me, won’t you?
Love me
so I can love me, too.

About Catastrophe Jones

Wretched word-goblin with enough interests that they're not particularly awesome at any of them. Terrible self-esteem and yet prone to hilarious bouts of hubris. Full of the worst flavors of self-awareness. Owns far too many craft supplies. Will sing to you at the slightest provocation.
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