I am forever wondering
Whether I am important
In the lives of people
That I mingle with
It's a brutal battle of wits
Me and my subconscious
Where I become the submissive
In lack of proper evidences
That yes, I do matter
And yes, I am important
Cause it's just a lie
I am telling myself to make it feel better
I wonder why
Even when I try
It's never enough
To make them mine
Mine.
Wait that isn't true
I am sorry for that cue
I just realized that
They were always mine.
Mine. My person.
Someone I'll go to when I am down
Someone I'll call when I am feeling the blue
But the question is
Would I ever be theirs?
It's an unsolved mystery and
I wouldn't even dare
To hope that I might be
Cause how can I be theirs
When I cannot even be mine.
YOU ARE READING
Withering petals of my hurting heart
PoetryA collection of poems that I wrote when my whole existence felt like a joke and I felt shackled by my own demons.
