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The pain is like an ocean;
The waves crashing inside my chest,
Allowing me to envision myself drowning in it all,
And I feel I could search the whole sea
Without ever finding what I need.

I am aware that nothing's ever perfect,
But in my heart I feel like it could have been possible,
Although my head knows that I'm wrong.
I simply was not meant to have a father.

But do you know how much it hurts?
They say 'it never rains but it pours',
And I feel as though this hurt inside me is like an everlasting thunderstorm.
It subsides eventually for a few moments,
But it's all you remember as if the sunny spells in between were nothing.

This makes me feel like nothing.
Why wasn't I good enough?
Why did I not deserve to have a father? I cry inside in wonder.
Then I list the reasons
And I wait for ways to feel better,
Except I've never stopped waiting.
I try so hard to find a way to fix this,
Because it makes me feel so broken,
It never makes a difference though,
Because there's no solution.
Maybe then he'll care
Except I'm seeking attention from
Someone who isn't there
"I do so ******* much for you and this is how you treat me"
The words are unspoken
But I still hear them loudly,
It's true I'm no use
So I guess it's good that there's only a few to still bother with me.
The truth we should tell?
If it's hard and hurts then you don't want to hear it, huh?
Yeah I know but still.
I respond to one part only,
Just as I can multitask doesn't mean I will.
The truth is nothing's ever good enough,
Anything we could do,
There's always faults wherever you are but what's it like to ignore them?
Sometimes I think I ignore plenty,
Even though there is still many,
You can never run away from anything
And facing them doesn't always work out.
In fact I don't think we realise
What facing up to things are either
-I don't-
If you're scared of something,
Then you gave it the chance didn't you?
So haven't we faced up to it?
I have no clue it's like we can only praise ourselves for this if we succeeded,
If we made it past it,
But when I past obstacles I act like it meant nothing,
So that I can disconnect from it because I don't want anymore of it again so I say it's gone now.
Another old poem that's not on here.
How many times could I stop?
How many times do I want to just turn it all off.
It would still exist but maybe I could get rid of it for a while.
Just never look again,
But I need to find out things;
I can't just back away;
Or try that way of making me okay.
I can't thread my thoughts into beautiful emotion
They're too unprepossessing
And tangled in fear.
If you could hear all this noise,
It would sound disgraceful
I'm sorry my dear.
All the things we do,
For illness,
To make ourselves worse;
It fuels the pain,
But we know we're just going back again.

What's the use?
Why not lose when there's
Nothing left
To win?
We give in,
Just so that this nothingness can win.

It's fine,
You're going to survive,
But do you completely want to?
Maybe you can't decide,
So instead you hide it inside.

You're told to get better,
But what does that mean?
It means you stop acting,
You get over it eventually.
Really?
Maybe if you're careful;
Find a way to fix yourself;
Make sure you don't break again.

Now move forward,
It's been a few years,
That's what everyone thinks.
You're all good now,
Even you believe,
At last you can do anything
-except what you were doing,
That is.
Avoid it like the plague,
To try to stay safe,
Although really you try creeping back,
Just to catch a glimpse of something
You know you shouldn't be looking at.

Then you wonder
About sending yourself back:
To the days in Hell,
The fight for escape,
Waiting for it to be over,
To be left alone.
**** the actions first,
Then learn how to cope
Without what you were destroying yourself with.

You're fine for now,
At least you guess you are,
Only you're surrounded by sorrow,
The misery with bouts of
Alright, just great.
But darkness lurks around the corner,
So will you follow,
Or do what you're supposed to be continuing with?

You want control,
Part of you wants to feel something,
Other than these emotions,
To stop hearing these thoughts,
And press stop on the memories,
Because with the present it hurts you,
Damaging - like what doesn't exist.

One time, go on:
Repeat like you used to,
What's the reason not to
When you just feel like you're lacking
Some of what you need?
And what is that?
The truth, surrender,
A cease to all this,
Someone else to leave?

You know it will push you somewhere,
Into a harsh reality
But one you hope that might be different,
From the one that pains you,
Even if you'll be guilty.
You'll have the satisfaction
Of finally
Doing something.
Again. You said never again,
But that wasn't true,
Did you even mean that?
You wonder as you retake
Your past baleful steps.

It doesn't own the same reasons
This time.
You just want to prove your
Destructive existence to yourself,
Even though you miss your
Dissociation from reality.
Maybe because if you do it,
It means you're not one hundred percent,
Just don't let anyone know,
Why should it harm anyone,
Except you because that's the whole issue?

It's okay though,
You've figured it out,
Like you always knew,
You were only kidding yourself,
You know you'd have to live
With the unhelpful effects,
It doesn't need to be any harder,
Than it already is.
This is an old one I just found.
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