that little girl
who had to watch her (*relative*)
destroy themself,
had confused her for so long.
until she got comfortable with the pain.
to the point where she craved that pain.
as if she needed that pain in order to feel like herself.
and if she didn't have that pain,
she would pour guilt onto herself.
manipulate herself out of reality.
she always needed that pain,
therefore,
she never complained about receiving that pain from them Evers again.
she couldn't even bring herself to try.
it was her lifeline.
it gave her purpose.
it had become her only grounding.
YOU ARE READING
My Poems Of Unrest
Poetryif u came across this, hey! these are just some poems I made describing things that i couldn't really describe or say physically, out loud. *WARNING* there is triggering content in these poems (self-harm, depression, anxiety, identity crisis, etc) t...
