annoyed is an understatement. maybe anger is the right word. jealousy? scorn? who knows. maybe either. maybe both at the same time. jealous over the fact that you weren't born being fed on a silver spoon. they get what they want, even without asking for it. but you, oh, you poor little thing. you never got what you needed and you always had to beg for it. you never felt what it feels like to be so loved by people around you. you just have to always beg for it. you were never the first option. and that's why you learned to show no emotion. you had to stomach the rage slowly bubbling inside you over the fact that you had no one to help you, to care for you, to love you, and to sympathize with you while they, oh god, look at them, having so many people surrounding them to make them feel okay.
while they were fed on a silver plate and spoon, you learned to kneel and lick rusty knives. people shower them with so much love and care while you got used to sitting in the dark. alone. you were so used with no one being there to help you and no one to ask for, so you're used to not asking for help at all. and so when the loved comes to you, you boil with rage and scorn. how dare they offer invitation knowing you have nothing? you ask yourself. you know they can because they have the resources and you have nothing. how angering it is to wish for yourself to have just a little more. even just a little more than what you have now.
and even with all this anger, there's still something lonely left in you. guilt.
you know they deserve the recognition. they deserve the love. they need the resources. the things they wanted that were given to them. so now you're split in two. anger for indignation and guilt over stupid pitiful jealousy.
but what about you?
do you not deserve such things? do you only deserve to kneel, head facing down? what about you?
then again, you're split in half, feeling unworthy of such things and emotions, even just a tiny bit, and feeling worthy of it, even just a little bit.
torn in half is an understatement. you're shred to tiny pieces.
YOU ARE READING
a hurricane of blues | poetry book 2 ✔
Poetry[ poetry and prose book 2 ] ❝you're so good at comforting others but who's comforting you?❞ a shelf of poems and proses containing the chaos and pain of heartache, loneliness, anger, grief, and sadness. s t a r t e d : f e b r u a r y 2 0 2 1 e n d...
