I wanted so badly to believe you
when you said that you had changed.
But ever since you came back around,
Nothing feels okay.
I tried so hard to recover from this disease that you instilled into my brain.
I fought like hell to kill the monster that I became.
It's not easy to silence the voices in your head when they're lurking in your halls instead.
Every moment that I spend in your presence,
I go back to another day.
another place, not intended.
A day in the life of the girl who was only in your way.
You can tell everyone that you're not to blame.
But you and I both know the sad truth about how we got this way.
it's so easy for you to gather sympathy from my sickness.
You never were the type to miss out on attention when pity comes with it.
Deep down I know that I'm only punishing myself when I should be directing my hatred towards you!
I've become numb to feeling anything but empty, no matter what I do.
Your words still feel like daggers in my chest.
Purposely ignoring the fact that I was innocent.
NO CHILD DESERVES TO FEEL LIKE THEY ARE WORTHLESS.
Somehow part of you still has a hold on me.
Whatever you needed, you knew I'd drop everything.
Manipulating my mind every chance you got.
You destroyed every original thought in my head.
You replaced them with your lies about this fucked up life you made, instead.
You know, you shouldn't throw daggers at glass houses.
Especially when every word you speak is always doubted.
I fought a war in my head that you set in motion.
For years I made excuses for your lack of devotion.
You wrestle with the idea that you might finally feel guilty for the harm that you've caused.
But each time you get close to sincerity,
You take a step back and suddenly the guilt is gone.
I tried so hard not fall for your lies this time.
But history reminded me that manipulation was your favorite disguise.
YOU ARE READING
One Thousand Tears
PoetryI've tried to release this pain in so many different ways; But writing about you seems to be one of my faves. I don't understand how I find closure When I know it only lasts until the poem is over. Somehow it feels like some sort of imaginary reli...