isn't it funny
that one of our first instincts is to love what hurts us
that when we were little and got in trouble
we ran back into the arms of who hurt us
too little to form anything other than cries and screams
the silent i'm sorry's
and isn't it funny
that those are still our instincts now
when that boy shoves words into your mouth
and fractures your heart into tiny pieces
the first thing you want to do is run back
straight to the arms that hurt you
the pieces of your heart too little
too broken to form anything other than cries and screams
the silent i'm sorry's
isn't that funny
and isn't that sad
habits we cling to from childhood
as if we were still a newborn
left alone in the cradle
screaming and reaching to be held
feeling abandoned
only wanting to be saved by the person that put you there
YOU ARE READING
confessions of a teenage girl
Poetryi'm invisible. my friends don't see me. my family doesn't see me. i am a ghost. a phantom of nonexistent matter. i don't exist. i never have and i never will. ~tales of the invisible girl collection of poems that i wrote ❤️ Best read in Baskerville...
