Bitter

These raw memories float to the surface of my brain,

And their bittersweetness flickers with a blue light.

Thundering voices tell me to paint it all sweeter,

Yet there is more promise in a dying night.

My heart aches for the ones who only have the dark,

But screams for the ones who sugarcoat the surface.

The scars I carry come with stories I treasure.

The purity of true joy is only making me nervous.

Still, they call me bitter, and I know they mean it.

They derive true pleasure from cursing me out.

These raw memories sink in my skull like an anchor,

And their edges kill everyone who is in doubt.

-Jackie