I tell them of the pain inside me,
Still they do not bother trying to help.
Yes, I write sad poems for all to see.
Always, I am sickly; I am green like kelp.
Maybe I am just too emotional,
I am sorry for being bipolar.
Receding feelings have a deadly pull.
My terrible mind is my evil lair.
It matters not that I am all alone;
It is obvious that nobody cares.
The silence is now just a little moan.
My sad heart is what silence always tears.
I give up; I can't help it anymore.
It is all weakening my very core.
YOU ARE READING
For Those in Pain
PoetryEverybody hurts at one time or another. Life is filled with pain and sorrow. It is the darkness that clouds our minds, and attacks our hearts. Sometimes, the pain can not be adequately expressed in words. But we try to find the words to explain ours...
