What is real to me
Is not real to you
The weight on my back
You can’t see from your angle
I must be so bored
To complain so **** often
As my spine starts to give out
Pain trickles down each vertebrae
I must want attention
When you ask why my feet ache
I tell you how a man filled my backpack with stones
Oh!
You know who i’m talking about!
What a piece of **** right?
Oh.
He would never do such a thing
Well,
Because,
He’s never done that to you.
That must mean my story’s not true.
I must be so sick
And ****** in the head
To be crying at night from the soreness years later
You’d think i’d adjust to the workout
Sometimes it doesn’t work out that way.
Who would want to be around someone with such a bad limp?
It’s just easier to stay in bed.
Then the pain is just mine.
And nobody gets to have an opinion on if it’s real or not.
Dec 15, 2021
Dec 15, 2021 at 5:00 AM UTC
What is real to me
Is not real to you
The weight on my back
You can’t see from your angle
I must be so bored
To complain so **** often
As my spine starts to give out
Pain trickles down each vertebrae
I must want attention
When you ask why my feet ache
I tell you how a man filled my backpack with stones
Oh!
You know who i’m talking about!
What a piece of **** right?
Oh.
He would never do such a thing
Well,
Because,
He’s never done that to you.
That must mean my story’s not true.
I must be so sick
And ****** in the head
To be crying at night from the soreness years later
You’d think i’d adjust to the workout
Sometimes it doesn’t work out that way.
Who would want to be around someone with such a bad limp?
It’s just easier to stay in bed.
Then the pain is just mine.
And nobody gets to have an opinion on if it’s real or not.
it can feel impossible, being a survivor on your own.