I forget
What I lived for back then
Maybe just hope
That indefinable future stretching unknown
It always baffled me how the young
Could give up and try to die
When there was always hope
And some sympathy for their tender years
I want to say to them
Wait until you get here
Then the going gets quiet
People don’t check on you
There is no sympathy for your failing
We’re supposed to be stronger
What doesn’t kill us, right?
Not true
Everything that’s destroyed me did not
Make me more resilient
That’s a lie we tell ourselves and our friends
Or maybe for some it’s a truth
Not for me
I feel with every battering less and less
Less willing to stand and fight
For why?
The illusion things will change?
The care that rarely solidifies
I am so good at lifting others up
So poor at building my house
Because I gave my faith to them
And made nothing for myself
Instead I hear, the voices of the past
Telling me why I’m worthless
And it isn’t just the past
It’s recent and the scar
Never heals
I am
Broken
I survived only to
Fall
I am hurt beyond description
I ache and feel pain every hour
Nothing I do seems to change
The sorrow of every day
It’s too easy to dismiss it away as
Clinical depression
It is not
I simply wish I could safely die
I wouldn’t even feel guilty anymore
I’m too tired to care
Maybe when you’re not cared about that’s what happens
I find it hard to understand why more don’t share my sentiment
I don’t enjoy life
I have no purpose
I have been left by those I loved
I stand alone
Not blaming anyone
Just seeing through
The bullshit
I wish right now
Life were a dream and death reality
An external sleep
No trespass no hope
It has long been gone
And I have tried for ages to hide my belief
There is no point
For whom?
There is a crack in my heart that runs so deep
Maybe it was all a mistake
I wish I could rewind until
I ceased and never had been
It is hard to want to undo yourself
As you continue to flourish
I am tired of trying
I feel that’s all I’ve ever done
It’s a bit of a delusion
Trying and being in pain
Why try? For whom?
If there is no one
I hear the bus
Letting off children
I remember
Being a child
I wasn’t happy then
It’s not who I am
My mother was right though she was wrong
Maybe I’m a lesson from which others learn
There isn’t as much meaning in everything
As we are told
Sometimes we just exist without meaning
And it’s ugly and long
Too long
I wish I didn’t know
How most books
End
The heartbreak here is not uniquely one poet’s, but too widely shared by many with no such voice to put it into words, and so they express it in the finality of action.
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Reblogged this on cabbagesandkings524 and commented:
At The Hijacked Amygdala, The Feathered Sleep serves up pain beautifully.
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