Sometimes it hurts to be me
I sit and think about my life a lot
My 19 years of living
And all I can do is cry
Tears lay down on my cheeks
Restless, they can't even sleep
They don't flow
They stick like dew does to grass in the morning
They hang from my leaves and glisten
When I cry, it feels like centuries go by before one can hit the ground
The faster they leave my ducts the slower they leave my face
They're comfortable there
They've known that place for a long time
Wiping them away doesn't  help because the simple touch of my finger is a howling reminder of how touching me can only leave to hurt
Words have hit my face just as much as angry fists
I've hurt myself more than anyone else ever has
I've kissed my skin with razor blades but it hurts more just being me
Just being Emma