Maybe I don't know,
What it feels like,
To have every lock of hair,
Yanked out of my head,
By a foe's fistfuls of hatred.
Maybe I don't know,
What it feels like,
To be at the clutches of illness,
Or at the mercy of disease,
That leaves one fighting for breath,
And lethargic to their bones.
Maybe I'm not familiar with,
The cool metallic touch,
Of a sharpened blade,
That digs into my skin,
Emancipating my trapped soul.
Maybe I haven't experienced,
The heart-wrenching grief,
Of losing a loved one,
A part of you so whole,
That without whom,
You're left incomplete.
But what I do know,
All too well,
Is the piercing ache of my heart,
A tightness in my chest,
Suffocating me with every breath.
Haunting me on my darkest nights,
Leaving me blinded by the flashes of memories,
Soaking me in rush of hot tears,
Yet it comes back again in daylight.
And I am fully aware,
Of the emptiness that engulfs me,
When your eyes pierce into mine accusingly,
Expecting me to have known,
When you know I can't read your mind,
When you're always changing plans at the last minute,
When you yourself don't actually care at all.
So now I am left here,
Confused,
Because when others ask me,
If everything's alright,
I nod my head and swallow,
The little voice that so painfully,
Needs you to hear it.
For now it is stored away,
A storm of rage, tears and hurt,
In a shaky little glass jar,
That's about to tip,
Any moment now.
And you bet I know,
That your jar is brimming to the mouth,
Threatening to overflow,
But really is it so much to ask of you,
To help me pour away some of my woes,
I'm just not strong enough to do it alone.
Please won't you try,
Instead of giving merely
That look of sheer disappointment,
during that one single instance,
When I didn't help you pour your's away,
although I do most of the time-
I thought you knew how those broken shards,
Would cut right through me every time,
I try to piece you together again.
