They say men should always be strong.
To be emotionally weak is to be wrong.
I shouldn't show my pain.
I should halt my brain.
But now I know.
Now I can grow.
I am weak.
My emotions too often speak.
I make others flee.
Flee from gazing upon my depression spree.
I hurt too easy.
It does actually end up making me queasy.
I'm an emotional mess.
It's so often that I'm in distress.
I care about too much.
Caring about things that I cannot clutch.
It's hard to keep friends.
They leave when my sanity bends.
People are too blunt.
I just want to allude to what I mean with my false front.
I am too quick to trust.
Then it is too late to adjust.
I've already latched on.
My freedom is now gone.
I unknowingly take it away from me.
I cast myself aside, drowning in this endless sea.
For I will always put others first.
That is what has been cursed.
I strive to make others feel joy.
Then I feel sadness when I accidentally annoy.
I undergo an endless cycle of pain and guilt.
All put into motion by myself, which causes vulnerability to take place of what I had built.
YOU ARE READING
Stale Words
Poetry𝚂𝚝𝚊𝚕𝚎 𝚆𝚘𝚛𝚍𝚜 is an ongoing book and collection of poems and sonnets made by me, inspired by my thoughts, dreams, and personal experiences. As someone who lives with depression and anxiety, a lot of my thoughts are bound to not be very pleas...
