This poem is not pretty

This poem is not pretty
If it looks anything like the inside of my mind right now
This poem is not pretty
If it looks like my hair getting tangled in the wind

I am in a car with windows rolled down
What else do you need to dissect your life?
I see the poisonous particles in the air that I inhale
Each particle expands into a thought
Jumbling and running into one another
The pendulum starts swinging
And everything is set into motion

Does everyone have 2 people inside them?
Is everybody secretly a Gemini?
And could one part want something diametrically opposite to the other?
And if they told their stories together
You wouldn't believe they coexist.
They themselves don't.
(Perhaps their stories are exactly why they co-exist.
Ignore him, he's my second half)
They debate, they talk
Sometimes one wins with a clear shot
Other times their amorphous forms merge
To become a third person of their own accord
Without you even really noticing

All of 22
And I have already started seeing the coming about of what had gone around
The wilful and bitter sweet friendship of goodness with time - 'the good times';
The fact that you can't perpetuate that for someone -
Take that away from someone
Sometimes your love isn't going to be enough to save someone
Your hate so feeble it won't even singe
I think that's why we have candles on cakes
Wishes on lashes
And fairy tales

I think of the younger one
How she has dreams and aspirations for herself
How with her entirely different journey
She will still end up thinking the same.