The Effort of Creation

Part 2

TW: Self-loathing.

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You're ruined and it's me
My heavy-handed dips below the surface
I hope I haven't blown it
But of course I have

My head is aching
My stories are begging to be written, to be seen, to be read
By something other than my eyes inside my head

I've ruined them
By holding them inside
By prying other things out
By unconcealing and feeling and healing
My whole vibe has gone down the drain

How good was it to start with, I wonder
If it was so intense that it could only work when I was killing myself
I wander the apartment at a loss

Stories
Stories
What's my story?
Write what you know
What exactly do I know
My head is empty as it's ever been
I feel like a newborn but without the loving reception
Just cold and discomfort and everything being strange

My original question was "Can I get better?" And my original solution was to look within myself

To figure out the story
See the bird under the eggshell

I'm sorry I opened Pandora's box
But I wanted to see what was inside.