Middle of the Night
In the middle of the night,
I’m wide awake.
Was it my thoughts that kept me awake?
Or because I slept for a few hours.
It breaks my heart when I remember things
and they all came at once,
I don’t know which really tears me apart.
Then I would find myself already crying.
As I found myself crying,
in my head, I saw that little me.
Why is she crying alone?
I thought you were a happy kid as they say.
How did I end up being like this?
Was it my fault for not speaking up?
Or am I just too afraid of being judged?
So I built walls around me to hide myself.
I wanted to blame anyone— why should I?
In the end, I kept blaming myself.
How can I love myself if I also hate me?
How is it that I hope to live but want to kill me?
Why do I ask for love and care?
If I myself can’t provide much for myself?
Is it? Or yeah right, I’m in the past.
Past, present, future — will I ever be different?
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Thoughts, Feelings, and Experiences
PoetryPoems are written because of experiences and imaginations where knowledge and feelings unites. When it hurts, it hurts but it's all right. Feel the pain and let poetry speak for it. 📌Poems can be triggering for some.
