As the days blur together,
I enjoy the bad weather.
It reflects me so well,
Pity you can't tell.
But then again you never could,
Even though you really should.
You never see how upset I am.
It seems like nobody gives a damn.
But it's my fault, isn't it?
I know that I should just quit.
Every smile and painful lie,
Is why I wish that I could die.
But it would hurt you,
And hurt me too.
So I'll continue with my charade,
Only to retreat to my blade.
I don't blame anyone,
And when I'm finally done,
I'll hide my scars in shame,
Because I'm the only one to blame.
YOU ARE READING
Almost a poet
PoetryI'm trying my luck at poetry so it'd be great to get some feedback. Keep in mind that these poems are strongly related to depression, anorexia, and things of that sort. If you are recovering, this story is not recommended for you.
