She makes me hate myself,
Loathe myself,
Despise myself.
She sees the little things,
A dish unwashed,
Clothing not put away,
Homework not done.
Little by little,
She gets madder and madder,
Until she finally explodes,
On the wrong person.
She makes me doubt myself,
Regret my decisions,
Change myself.
She yells nasty words,
Not meant later,
But in the moment,
They fall upon a delicate and fragile mind.
That mind sucks them in,
As if they're needed for survival,
They reassure the innocent one,
What she thought all along was right.
She makes me hurt myself,
Mentally and physically,
The pain hidden away,
Leaving scars, Both hidden and in plain view.
Later after calming down,
She apologizes,
Says she knew it wasn't her fault,
Don't feel bad.
Too late,
The words bounce through the innocent's head,
You are too late,
The damage has already been done.
She makes me hate myself,
She makes me doubt myself,
She makes me hurt myself.
And it seems like its never gonna stop.
YOU ARE READING
Poems
General FictionPoems made when I'm sad. These are really personal and everyone of them describe something I'm going through or close to it. Please read, and definitely comment!
