I'm deathly afraid every noise and movement is out to get me,
everyone is, no one cares about me or my little hopes or dreams, no one ever has.
but..
the voice won't stop saying "what's wrong with you"
and I can't stop thinking "what's wrong with me?"
Something isn't just OK,
nothings OK,
because it isn't ok to want to be dead,
and I don't understand it.
I'm sick of feeling like I'm screaming for help in a glass box,
sealed off and sound proof.
No one is hearing me over the sound of their own voice.
I've never been allowed to know what it feels like to be heard.
Even when I was in second grade I was told not to trust and that I don't truly know anyone.
It's like everyone's just playing dolls,
different faces, masks, personalities,
but they're all out to get everyone else and I've never been allowed to tell anyone this.
it makes me want to gut myself so the pain can finally end.
Then I hear others families,
and they fight but its playful, not trying to hurt each other,
and parents don't yell about how they hate each other, they act like adults,
and the kids are listened to, when they need their voice heard,
but then that stupid voice tells me my life is normal,
I'm not fucking special,
so you need to stop putting yourself in categories,
because your fine and your life is completely normal,
and anything wrong is normal.
But that's just a normal thing to think, right?
this is normal.
I'm not broken.
...im ok. right?
YOU ARE READING
Poems of a mended artist.
Poesiathis will be a part two to my other set of poems. please read them but they are not needed to understand these. These will be much sadder than my original ones usually.
