If only I could make you feel the pain that you cause me to feel.
Do you not understand that your screams make me feel ill?
I hate that we have no real relationship,
and that you treat me like a slave.
I'm at the point where I want to run away.
It's not like you'd take action after anyways.
You'd probably enjoy the attention you'd recieve,
Take me for granted.. won't you please?
Not only do I feel alone right now,
The people who said they'd be there are finaly slipping out.
That's probably my fault though,
I trusted them too much.
Complaint after complaint.
I shouldn't have told them so much.
I guess that shows to prove that it's really just you in the end.
I've begun to vent here.
It's as if words and rhymes are my only friends.
it felt like my heart and soul were right next to each other
falling out of my chest slowly
it hurt more than it ever did out of just realizations
i couldn't walk
i felt like throwing myself on the wood floor of the entrance of my new home
it felt like there was a black hole inside me
"come on open your present"
i don't answer because of the ******' pain
i throw myself on my bed and keep crying and crying...
"hey, open your gift!"
i don't bother to answer just to see if she'll come and comfort me
i left my door open on purpose
"hey, do you want to open your gift?" she sees me crying and sighs
she lays down next to me, hugs me and sighs once again
i'm still crying and i don't really know the reason why yet
"what did he say to you that made you cry this hard?"
i cry harder and i can barely breathe
i stop just to answer
i think twice before saying what 'i want' to say, but i don't care at this point
i should be able to express myself 'exactly' how i feel it, so then i say...
"he's just a ******' *******"
this isn't really a poem but i wanted to put it out there, i hope you can feel it with just my words and explanation. :)
He didn’t seem threatening, yet I had spent six months fighting the urge to trust him. At one time, I’d inherently trusted people, but experience is the best teacher, and even the most trusting child, with enough provocation, can grow into an adult who’s always wary—even as she hides behind open smiles and friendly conversation.
So easily broken. So wickedly hard to repair.
Deep the scars of iron bars
when oft we're laid so low
young or old, scared or bold
light takes time
Has been a Man
All his life
And I capitalize Man
Because his terms
He doesn’t like the word
Unless it’s in his voice
And under his control
Control is his ego
He likes a grip on everything
So tight it chokes us
And he wonders why
I’m slipping away
I'd rather suffer in
S O L I T U D E
Than expose my soul
And have you tell me
It will be alright
As you hold
The pillow over my face
And wish me goodnight