It truly hurts
It hurts to breath sometimes
Why am I living in this world
When my purpose is so small
Will they even care
The relationships I worked hard on to have
Will they mind if I just left
Would they search for me when I don't show
Up
Would they mourn for me when I am not
there
I believed they wouldn't
And it hurt
It hurt to try and cheer myself up
To say that I am okay
It's alright
While hot tears run down my face
And it feels like my whole chest is on fire
And the cruelest thing about it
Is that to wake myself up
Needs the burning, stinging
Sensation of my skin
From where it would draw blood
nothing
I'm not an idiot
I trace from where it would hurt
Reminding me of what a fucking disappointment
I really am
_______
I won't lie, I'm the author and this one hit a bit too hard.
It feels like sometimes after the rain has passed that the pain wasn't that bad, and we shrug it off saying we were being dramatic.
But If you really believe that something so small made you cry till your chest caved, then perhaps you need more help than you realise.
I understand that, take it slow. Believe in yourself. Embrace yourself, don't let your mind convince you otherwise.
I love you, don't forget me
YOU ARE READING
Hopeless Poet
PoetryI write about the world. Her, him, the places of meaning, aggression, compassion, or human nature. TRIGGER WARNING !! some poems talk about s*elf harm and su*cide. Please do not read if you are sensitive to such topics. I will try to put a trigger...
