maybe
i’m just at the end of my
pretending rope/
my imaginary me that makes
me
happy-go-lucky
bubbly and rainbow-y
and i’m starting to see through to my
utter core of goth/emo/darkness —
maybe this pretend me was me
for a time
and maybe this lower me is only a phase

or maybe this is my cycle,
this is my burden to bare
or carry
or lift up into the air

because cycles are natural
time is cyclical
and people live and die and live again in our heads
and everything circles back to the beginning
again