The Epitome of a Cliche

As a writer

I see darkness in sunshine

The world is a bleak mess

I've absorbed all I've seen

And all I've felt in these past years

My soul is stained and dark

It escapes onto pages

Mottling the white sheets

Coffee runs through my veins

Caffeine is my adrenaline

I bleed excess energy

I'm in a constant spiral of sleepless nights

And self inflicted exhaustion

I love anything strange and dark

It matches me internally

I love the weird and profound

Anything to spark my mind

To make me feel in some sense alive

To provide light and inspiration

I prefer solitude

To be alone with my thoughts

To truly be me

People are exhausting

Too loud and passionate

Too happy and false

Too hopeful and oblivious

Yet there's sunshine in darkness

And sometimes happiness in the bad days

And I love those who are close to me

They drain me in a different way

Maybe you don't understand me

And maybe you never will

Maybe I'm half of a stereotype

Or maybe not at all