That's it. I'm probably tired. Because that's when the words are suddenly able to flow. When I can write with ease and there's no stutter in my thoughts. Of course, the things I write are all of the same content. The same bitching. The same problems.
Writing is a way to express, isn't it? But they forgot to mention that just because you expressed that pain once, doesn't mean it won't ever return again.
Write what you know. That is a true statement that they always say. Well, I know sadness and anger, like everyone else. But I know a different kind from a different perspective. A sadness that isn't really there but it's the only thing that numbs. An anger expressed from one person and transferred into another's mind to scar and change their memories.
It was a question of why. Why do that to another. Obviously they had no idea the affect of their actions...Or maybe they did and couldn't bother to give a shit. It's all irrelevant now. It's over. It will never happen again.
So why the everloving fuck are you still talking about it.
Why can't you get over it
What is so fucking hard
Just do the dare
Just talk to someone
Just enjoy being you
Quit blaming someone else for your fucked up mind
God why do you have to be this way
Why are you so defensive and scared and my god why can't you breathe
Just fucking breathe.
What is so hard about inhaling
You know the exact answer and reason to all of these, yet you still bother yourself with these questions incessantly. I know you know you still can't grasp it or believe that it actually wasn't your fault. How can anyone convince you.
How can they when there's no one there to do it.
Who's fault is it really
God's perhaps. It and its big fucking plan
You know it's just another phase. Tomorrow morning you'll wake up and wonder how you could've felt so low in the first place. You'll go through your day and then something will happen and back to square one
I want to get better. I want to improve
Do I?
I want to grasp someone's attention
Hey you. Yeah you. Can you please say something reassuring to me?
Because I'm an attention whore pretending to be okay.
I
Want
To
Be
Safe
I want to
Feel
Safe
YOU ARE READING
The Book of Healing
PoetryShe's not okay, but writing it down helps. - Part I: It's time to rip off the band-aid. Poems: slam, traditional, free-verse. The first twenty are not up to par with the others, but this is an ongoing journey so I feel the need to include them...
