People tend to project
Their insecurities onto me.
Their words become lodged into my head
Like a stray bullet would.
But unlike actual bullets,
These can't just be removed.
They're always in you, and the pain
Always ebbs and flows.
Yes, the majority of these problems
Can be fixed with effort,
But with these fixes
Comes more obstacles.
No matter what happens,
I will always compare myself
To others, fixating on the need to be
What is impossible: perfect.
Along with these fixable issues,
There are the one's that can't be fixed.
They're physical, emotional, mental,
But all so damaging.
These problems do nothing but
Destroy you from the inside out,
Until there's nothing left but
The hollow shell of yourself.
And while we deprecate,
While we focus on the bad,
If we could just focus on the good,
Wouldn't we be happier?
If people truly took the time
To acknowledge their good qualities,
The constant comparisons would end,
And we would all be whole.
YOU ARE READING
Pleasure or Pain? (Poetry)
PoetryI call this my book of chaos; my sanctuary. When the turmoil inside of me resurfaces, when I've surpassed my tipping point, putting my jumbled thoughts and conflictions into words gives back the control I initially lost.
