i really don't understand why i am this way.
why every day is a struggle, why i have to dredge up
every single ******* positive thought from the parts of my heart
that continue to beat and bleed.
i really don't understand why i can do this.
why i can sling excuses and ******** why i can talk away
every single ******* positive thing that could happen to me when
all i want is something to smile at.
i really don't understand what keeps me here.
what keeps me holding on to you, what makes me think of
every single ******* positive thing you did for me
when there was so much negative.
i really, really don't understand why everything i write
is so angry, so sad, so ******* angsty,
even when i've had a wonderful day and i could swear to you,
i could swear it doesn't hurt anymore.
nothing hurts anymore, and nothing makes me angry.
walk away from everything i felt for you
and everything i did for you
and all the tears i ******* cried for you,
and it won't hurt me, not this time.
Apr 22, 2011
Apr 22, 2011 at 8:53 PM UTC
i really don't understand why i am this way.
why every day is a struggle, why i have to dredge up
every single ******* positive thought from the parts of my heart
that continue to beat and bleed.
i really don't understand why i can do this.
why i can sling excuses and ******** why i can talk away
every single ******* positive thing that could happen to me when
all i want is something to smile at.
i really don't understand what keeps me here.
what keeps me holding on to you, what makes me think of
every single ******* positive thing you did for me
when there was so much negative.
i really, really don't understand why everything i write
is so angry, so sad, so ******* angsty,
even when i've had a wonderful day and i could swear to you,
i could swear it doesn't hurt anymore.
nothing hurts anymore, and nothing makes me angry.
walk away from everything i felt for you
and everything i did for you
and all the tears i ******* cried for you,
and it won't hurt me, not this time.
i've literally been trying to make something of this poem for months. nothing's come of it. so i threw some more onto it and that's it, i'm leaving it. i can't write for **** anymore.
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