I want to stab myself
I don't want to feel anything.
No, It's not like I like me
To die.
I just can't stand
All of those things.
I want to live,
But not like this.
I push up my emotions
In the Box.
Every time.
I think I'm gonna explode.
This feeling of cold
In my breasts
Just stop it.
All.
Your little games.
I feel like you're playing with me.
I know you're not, though
It's like...
Sometimes I just feel
Something that's not true.
I know it's all falsenes
But I cannot hold back
This thoughts, that aren't right.
It's hard to explain
But, belive me,
I'm trying so hard
It is difficult to me
To trust someone
And know, that they'll trust me
Back.
I don't have this kind of thing
That most of people do.
I have a lot of jumpers
(Yeah, I'm comparing myself
To onion).
I try my best, to be myself.
I don't care
What people think 'bout me
But The Thing
That's lying in my head.
It cares.
When I try
To be myself
It seems for me like I am
The Real Me.
It's not verity, I'm lying to myself.
It looks like me.
You can't tell the difference
(if you know, the Real One)
It's not me, though.
I don't feel like
It's Me.
I really like to be
Myself when I'm with you
With you I feel more comfortable
But....
I need time to grow.
I can't just one time
Go. And show.
The Real Me.
Whole.
I need to uncover
Everything, from blankets
Beneath I'm hiding.
Layer by layer.
Cover by cover.
Slowly.
I need time.
More and more.
Conclusion for me,
The note I have to stick
Inside careful
And distinctly:
I don't need to be
myself for Other People.
I just need to be myself
For Me.
Now, I want to feel.
Every pice of me.
Of my thoughts, my feelings
And fears.
Emotions.
I know
All of this is sort of puzzle
That puts thogether
Creating Me.
I really want
You to know Me.
To share my Box
And Puzzles with Me.
But, there's a little problem.
I still want to be hidden
Besides all my covers
But I may make exception.
And.. You see...
I think I do not want to
Uncover all of Me.
Instead of, maybe...
You want to
Come and hide
With me..?
***
17.02.2024.
Inspiration by: Idk, I'm just writing what's appearing in my head
YOU ARE READING
Dreams Of The Midnight
PoetryBook of poems writed mostly at night, when I can't sleep. And dream. Then I am making dreams by myself. Because my head is hatful of dreams, wishes and stories... ~I hope you will like it, Atellrie
