simply by speaking,
i regret my entire existence.
my head is filled with words,
that i'll never dare speak,
things that i think,
but others would hate me for.
being likable is the only hope for me.
i'm not talented,
i'm not pretty,
i'm not athletic either.
making people laugh,
giving them compliments
and making them happy
is the only way i'll ever be useful.
my heart is in pieces,
my mind is spiraling,
my body is exhausted,
my hands are shaking,
i'm falling apart by myself,
no one bats an eye;
leaves me wishing,
that i would never be born.
as tears fall down my cheeks,
my gentle soul
is withering away,
leaving nothing
that makes me kind,
i lash out;
a lump forms in my throat,
i choke on my words.
i can't even get mad
without crying my eyes out.
i wish i would never have
to talk to people again,
being my myself,
writing poems and stories
makes me happier than ever.
i made so many connections with people,
without ever directly wanting to.
if i stop now, i'll be selfish.
they'll always hate me.
i can't live with the guilt of leaving people, that did nothing to me.
days spent at home,
not even a thought of going out and meeting people,
those days are the best.
i don't have to play pretend,
put on a happy face
and a mask,
that doesn't even suit my real self.
i can lay around,
make beautiful things
and make peace
with how my heart feels.
