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Destiny C Jun 2022
Don't feel so special

I've been abused,
Forcefully used,
Yet you think you can blow my fuse?
Don't feel so special.

I've hacked & sliced at my own skin,
Barely living,
So thin,
But you worry if you hurt my grin,
Don't feel so special.

You could have called me every bad name under the sun,
shot me with a gun.
But I've hurt me, more than you've ever could.
So don't feel so special.

I don't need closure,
Unless its from stitches,
Mending the pieces I've broke from myself.
But the damage you've done,
Is nothing I haven't done to myself.

So don't feel sorry.
Hold your tears of guilt upon a shelf.
They mean nothing to me,
But only for yourself.

So don't feel so special.
You are nothing but another person who dared to hurt me,
But only hurt themself.
ShininGale May 2022
ℑ𝔱 π”΄π”žπ”° 𝔢𝔬𝔲𝔯 π”£π”žπ”²π”©π”± 𝔱π”₯𝔦𝔰 𝔱𝔦π”ͺ𝔒,
𝔱π”₯𝔒𝔢 𝔴𝔒𝔯𝔒 π”žπ”«π”€π”―π”Ά π”Ÿπ”’π” π”žπ”²π”°π”’ 𝔬𝔣 𝔰𝔬π”ͺ𝔒𝔱π”₯𝔦𝔫𝔀 𝔢𝔬𝔲 𝔑𝔦𝔑.
𝔅𝔲𝔱 𝔴π”₯𝔢 𝔑𝔦𝔑 β„‘ π”₯π”žπ”³π”’ 𝔱𝔬 π”°π”žπ”Ά 𝔰𝔬π”ͺ𝔒𝔱π”₯𝔦𝔫𝔀,
𝔫𝔬𝔴 𝔱π”₯𝔒 π”±π”žπ”Ÿπ”©π”’π”° π”žπ”―π”’ 𝔱𝔲𝔯𝔫𝔒𝔑.

β„‘'π”ͺ 𝔰𝔲𝔯𝔒 𝔢𝔬𝔲'𝔳𝔒 π”₯π”’π”žπ”―π”‘ π”žπ”«π”‘ 𝔱π”₯𝔬𝔲𝔀π”₯𝔱 𝔱π”₯π”žπ”± β„‘ 𝔑𝔦𝔑 𝔰𝔬π”ͺ𝔒𝔱π”₯𝔦𝔫𝔀 π”Ÿπ”žπ”‘ π”žπ”€π”žπ”¦π”«,
π”Ÿπ”²π”± π”₯𝔒𝔢 β„‘ 𝔧𝔲𝔰𝔱 π”°π”žπ”¦π”‘ 𝔱π”₯π”žπ”± 𝔱π”₯𝔒𝔢 𝔰π”₯𝔬𝔲𝔩𝔑𝔫'𝔱 π”°π”žπ”Ά 𝔱π”₯π”žπ”± 𝔱𝔬 𝔢𝔬𝔲...
𝔑𝔬𝔴, 𝔩𝔬𝔬𝔨 π”žπ”± π”ͺ𝔒 𝔫𝔬𝔴. β„‘ π”΄π”žπ”° 𝔱𝔬𝔩𝔑 𝔱𝔬 𝔰π”₯𝔲𝔱 𝔲𝔭.

π”“π”―π”¬π”Ÿπ”žπ”Ÿπ”©π”Ά π”°π”žπ”¦π”‘ 𝔦𝔱 𝔬𝔲𝔱 𝔬𝔣 π”£π”’π”žπ”― 𝔬𝔯 π”±π”―π”žπ”²π”ͺπ”ž,
π”Ÿπ”’π” π”žπ”²π”°π”’ 𝔢𝔬𝔲𝔯 π”žπ”°π”°π”²π”ͺ𝔭𝔱𝔦𝔬𝔫 𝔦𝔰 π”žπ”©π”΄π”žπ”Άπ”° π”₯𝔲𝔯𝔱𝔣𝔲𝔩 𝔱π”₯π”žπ”« 𝔱π”₯𝔒𝔦𝔯 𝔴𝔬𝔯𝔑𝔰.
𝔗π”₯𝔦𝔰 𝔴𝔦𝔩𝔩 π”Ÿπ”’ 𝔱π”₯𝔒 π”©π”žπ”°π”±, β„‘ 𝔴𝔦𝔩𝔩 𝔱𝔯𝔢 𝔱𝔬 𝔫𝔬𝔱 π” π”žπ”―π”’ π”žπ”± π”žπ”©π”©.
π”…π”’π” π”žπ”²π”°π”’ 𝔱π”₯𝔒𝔯𝔒'𝔰 𝔫𝔬𝔱π”₯𝔦𝔫𝔀 𝔩𝔒𝔣𝔱 π”žπ”± π”žπ”©π”©.
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It was you who pulled the trigger again, this wasn't what I originally wrote but hey it's gone now. I remember writing how the tables were turned after they called you disrespectful - But maybe, prolly, actually, out of anxiousness I lowkey stopped them because I know you'll blame me again. But guess what, I know you always did whenever I'm the one who started... whatever you do along the way doesn't matter, right? Today I was even told that I fear you more than my mother, nah I don't fear anyone, it's just that I'm tired of your cutting assumption, perception and words that is slowly making me believe that I'm always wrong. I don't want to care no more, because out of all - I hate to lose myself.
Nigdaw Apr 2022
I am sorry for the intermission
in your life that was me
do not adjust your set
normal service will be resumed
shortly
When my mom first thought that I was gay,
She and my father sat me down at the kitchen table.

I was fifteen and thought I was in love,
And all they could do was scream at me...

β€˜You’re a sin; what you feel isn’t natural.’
β€˜Where did we go wrong?’

And all I had wanted was to love in peace.
But apparently, that was too much to ask from them.

So I stifled myself.

I cut myself off from her and let us wither
Until there was nothing left of us because
I wasn't normal
And I was fifteen
And all I wanted was my mother’s approval
And how could I gain that if I wasn’t normal?

And then I was sixteen and I thought I was in love again
But this time with a seventeen-year-old boy
That knew nothing of love
And everything of sharp edges and even sharper words
But he spoke so pretty to me,
And how could I resist?

But he hurt me worse than anyone else that I’ve known
And he never even cared…

And then I was seventeen.

I was seventeen and my best friend had this mane
Of beautiful hair and I called her lovely and wife
And all the other silly little pet names that high school girls do
But little did she know that her smile
Lit fireworks inside my brain and the swarms of
Butterflies that beat in my chest rivalled that of a drum.

I thought she was beautiful.
I saw the universe in her.

But how could I admit that to myself without admitting it to
My mother, the one person whose validation I crave like
Air and water and life itself?

How could I admit to her that I wasn’t
Her little girl anymore?
That I was a disappointment?

And then I was eighteen.

I was eighteen and numb and not looking for anything when he found me...
I was eighteen and I thought that surely,
Surely
This was it, this was the feeling that I was waiting for.

But it wasn’t and I was eighteen and alone again
But this hurt worse than the others and then I was gone after that summer.

Now, I’m almost nineteen.

I’m almost nineteen and I’ve accepted the fact that
I will disappoint my mother;
The one whose opinion that I value the most;
The one that gave birth to me;
The only one that can tear me down until I feel like nothing.

But she’s my mother so how could I let her go
When she was there for my first word and my first steps
And every one of my other firsts.

My first date.

My first dance.

My first breakup.

She was there when I left for college, and she’ll be there when (if)
I get married.

Because regardless of my choices,
She loves me, and she always will.

And even if I can’t bring my partner home,
I will love her all the same.

So mom, if you see this,
I’m sorry.

I’m sorry that I didn’t turn out how you wanted.
I’m sorry that I disappointed you.

But I’m not sorry for being who I am.

I’m not sorry for thinking women are beautiful
And men are handsome
Because all the world needs is a little bit more love,
And who am I to deprive it of that?
An apology to my mother, who may or may not see this...
Dacotah Ashes Feb 2022
Between us I hoped
there was a cavern of silence
begging to be touched
by the sound of sorry
falling from your lips

But instead there is a glass wall
devouring rage and hurt
hurled from my throat
While you stand still
A smile on your lips
My Dear Poet Feb 2022
Your apology was drowned out
by the noise in my mind

I’d have read your lips
but tears had me blind

I tried to feel your words
but I was numb at every line
Zack Ripley Dec 2021
I'm sorry; I don't mean to pry.
But could someone please tell me why
it's so embarrassing to cry?
How many times have we said "I'm sorry"
only to say "babe, don't worry"
when it's the other way around?
Why do we have empathy for the wolves
when we cry for the same reasons?
Why are we so afraid to show our feelings
that we make up lies, like,
"it's the changing of the seasons"?
The behavior of a generation
won't change overnight.
But we need to start working
on being comfortable with expressing ourselves when something's not right.
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