I sit and listen, not by choice, but I still will.
You will tell me all your secrets as if I am a blank page you've yet to fill.
A diary I am not but I seemed to appear that way.
Your trauma becomes mine as a new friendship has been made.
You liked our dynamic because it let you out.
But I just replaced you in this mirror house.
You tell me, I listen, I weep myself to sleep.
If I leave you behind i'm so toxic and bleak.
You love to tell me secrets but hate when I leave.
If you cared about trauma, you wouldn't force yours on me.
YOU ARE READING
Pitiful
Poetry"Never trust a scream, it lies with its fear, it's scared of the truth, it's scared for you to hear." A collection of poems made about me and to be read by you. Please enjoy. ⚠️Content warning⚠️: May contain triggering content.
