One Type Of Sad

She looks at me, like i am the saddest story she has ever heard
She asks me, to explain to her, why i am sad
That is the thing with my type of sad
it does not need a reason to anchor me
to the edges of my bed like a ship
at bay ready to be disembarked
my type of sad is the guest that comes to your house
unannounced, it does not call my phone
to ask if i am free, or busy
my type of sad is a marching band
stomping loudly in my head
blowing trumpets and beating drums
only i can hear.
She tells me to turn down the volume
but you see, my type of sad is not the ocean sad
the kind sad, my sad is loud and mean
the volume from my bizarre music drowns out
the concert in my head.
She says pretend for my sake to be happy
and i try, i swear i do
but my type of sad does not know
how to pull the strings at the side of my face
to curve into a smile, i am sorry,
it is your birthday and i promised i would come
i wanted to come, i knew i should have come
but my feet felt heavy and my chest felt too wide
to carry my heart, there are empty spaces
between my ribs and i can hear
the splurging of air within my bones, i am sorry,
i know i should not be sorry but i am
i want to be happy
for your sake i want to wake up
and paint my lips blood red but i am tired
my fingers are tired my eyes are tired
i am pretending not to be sad but within your crowd
i am lost, alone
she says i would not be so lonely
if i went out more and called up my mother more
but my mothers lonely lost voice
are fingers chocking my throat
i cannot breath and i love her
but my type of sad absorbs my mothers sad
and i cannot hear her.
The city feels so big and i am a little dead star
trying to shine in a room filled with bright lights
see i want to go to the party
but the bustle of life and energy reminds me
of the emptiness i feel inside
and my bed feels like the only party that would have me
i am sorry,
she says don't be sorry, be better
and i want to be
but i cannot be better when i do not know
how to be better.