The hurt - Hello Poetry

Mar 31

Poet

The hurt

Sometimes we don’t realize it
But the hurt is there
It’s like the fire alarm you can’t turn off
You pull out the batteries but the beeping persists
You smash it against wall after wall
But it won’t end
You find the best way to cope is shoving it under your pillow
Though it’s heard the most when you try to sleep at night
At day
At noon
Every time you head hits the pillow the noise echos in your ear
Soon you forget about it
It’s faded into the background
But then
Someone tears the pillow to shreds
And you break

Mar 31

Poet

FINE

‘I’m fine’
When did those words change meaning
When did they go from ‘I’m fine’;
To ‘help me’
To ‘I’m drowning’
To ‘I want you to know’
To ‘god I hope they can’t see it’
The tears we cry
Don’t always fall from our eyes
Sometimes they fall with those words;
                 I’m fine
                                 I’m fine
             I’m fine
                I’m fine
         Fine
                Fine
              Fine
         F I N E
            FINE
I’m fine_.
Each word is a scream
Each letter is a promise to stop hoping
Each time we hear it we don’t realize what it means
Its plain in front of you
We’re all drowning
But some scream silently
With the words
I’m fine.

Mar 31

Poet

Hand

Do you know that feeling?
When you know you’re drowning
When you know your undoing everything
When you know you’ll have to start faking a smile
When it’s stopped coming naturally
Do you know that feeling?
When you feel yourself flailing but it’s not because you want to be saved
It’s because you don’t want to flail on your own
You want it to end
Just with somebody holding your hand

Mar 31

Poet

Mourn me

It’s almost like I can feel it
The cracks on my heart
Like they decided to bloom on my skin too
Like I can see the fissures growing
Spreading across my bruised skin
Like every word they say grinds salt into them
They say “sticks and stones may break my bones but words will never hurt me”
But what if the only thing I can’t dodge are the things they say?
What if no matter what I do
I can’t breathe through it?
It’s like every time my lungs fill with air I’m disappointed
Disappointed that I need to get through another day
That I need to wake up and “deal with it”
I don’t WANT to deal with it
I NEED someone to stand with me
To shoulder my weight of my world
To tell me I’m not alone
To show me the air filling my lungs matters
That somebody would care if I go
That somebody would mourn ME
ME
ME
ME
Alone
Miserable
Pessimistic
ME
Then I woke up
They only exist in the books, poet
They’re not REAL

— The End —