If someone gave me a penny
For every evil deed,
I'd be rather poor, with a few cents at hand.
I could never go through
With these urges to do bad.
You see, I'm a coward
A numb wretch, filled with nothing but wounds and vile thoughts.
Some wounds are physical
such as the ones on my thighs and the ones on my hands,
While others can't be seen
Such as the ones in my mind
The ones in my heart
And the ones left by those who had no purpose
Other than to hurt me.
Just like my thoughts
Some evident
The rest hidden deep
Inside my head
Noticed by nobody
Other than me.
I like how things are
How secret I am
How secret I will continue to be
Even when people dig deep
They won't find anything
They won't find my urges to hurt those who have wronged me
They won't find my guilt for following through
They won't find the words I wish to say
Nor the ones I have
Neither my pain
Neither my joy
As I stay discreet
And unfeeling
Hiding within my thoughts
Open to no one
And sometimes not even myself.
I hide those thoughts
From both I and the world
In hopes that one day
I could express my passions
Without being full of regret after.
In hopes that one day
I could take off this mask I call living
And reveal
Who I am
And who I wish to be.
I struggled with this one, ngl
But hope you enjoyed :)
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Hiraeth
PoetryJust my thoughts I put down on paper, something easier to understand. Though some of them, might not be that understandable. Hiraeth- a homesickness for home to which you can not return, a home which maybe never was; the nostalgia, the yearning, the...
