i hid all the good posts
people didnt really deserve them
which is why i quit
playing the violin.
you could go mad giving people art
and love
and having no one even like it or you in return
so the best tactic
was to wear black
and pretend to mourn things
when it actually had already broken
that shade of pink you used to keep in an old heirloom vase.

i mean i guess
i miss my sister
who used to record sounds on a tape deck
and make up songs
when we'd pretend that we were werewolves
living on some mattress pad
in the basement of an old white house
that had paintings from the thrift store
and old bookcases marred with paint.

she never found out
what happened to me
how and why i had to leave
so i guess it should be said that it was sad