TW: mention of sh [self harm], mentions of self hate, slight mentions of suicidal thoughts
(In these verses, burdens weigh upon the heart, Stories of minds shattered, drifting apart. To those who find solace, my embrace is kind, But to hatred's seekers, another path, please find. For here, words weave solace, not discord's art, A sanctuary of healing for each wounded part.)
Even as love eludes my grasp,
I continue to offer it, faithful as a hound.
Yet within, I acknowledge:
I may not be deserving of affection,
Not even a fraction.
Each mark, each tear, feels futile.
Why persist in existence,
When merit seems absent?
Life's joys evade me, lost in longing.
I love, but reciprocity eludes.
Existence feels hollow,
Tears flow, despite disdain,
Self-inflicted wounds seek solace in numbness.
I am akin to stone, unloved,
Always lending support,
Yet receiving none in return.
A vessel of solace, steeped in sorrow,
Yet finding none for myself.
This is my truth,
A ghost in the mirror.
A shadow of former self.
A hollow vessel, filled with despair.
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Echoes of the Unspoken
PoetryHere lies a collection of poems, scattered like leaves, shared in the hope that someone might find solace and know they are not alone in their turmoil. Beware, for these poems are not for the faint of heart; they arise from the darkest recesses of m...
