"Can I vent?" You say.
I say "Sure go on", not knowing how to reject.
Even though I know the price I would pay.
Leaving my soul wrecked.
You go on about how you hate life.
You go on about how you want to die.
You were this close to grabbing the knife.
Then you started to cry.
As always, I tried to calm you down.
I tried to be the guiding light.
I tried to ease your breakdown.
Of course, I succeeded with delight.
But did you ever ask me how I felt?
Did you ever think about me?
You didn't care about the things I dealt.
To be inconsiderate was your cup of tea.
I now pent up my emotions.
They have now been bottled up for too long.
If they break through, they would fill up the oceans.
And I'm sure something would go wrong
You finally decided to ask how am I.
I tell you I'm alright.
Of course, I can't tell, you are the reason I would die.
Hence, I let it go with a smile so bright.
You now come to thank me.
You tell me you have succeeded in life.
You jump up and down with glee.
Yet here I am, holding a knife.
YOU ARE READING
All The Words I Couldn't Say
PoésiePoetry Book Poetry is what in a poem makes you laugh, cry, prickle, be silent, makes your toenails twinkle, makes you want to do this or that or nothing, makes you know that you are alone in the unknown world, that your bliss and suffering are forev...
