I don’t know how to feel.
I can’t trust anyone because terrible things always happen when their close, yet they promise me before that they’ll always be here. I put on this brave face and pretend to be happy no matter the situation but I’m crying on the inside. I’m imprisoned in my own pain and no one can help. You talk to me and pass by me in the halls and I seem to be just fine but my mask can only hold for so long. Eventually the mask is going to wear away and you’re going to see me. I’m all alone surrounded by people who push me away, yet I still pull myself back to them. My headphones can only block out reality for so long…eventually, the songs gonna end and the world’s melody will fill my ears again. I see the world through desperate eyes. Eyes that point out the insanity that lies within others. My closet is my oasis, the darkness is my comfort, and the silence is my friend. A friend that doesn’t judge me for my short-comings and doesn’t broadcast my imperfections. The greatest hell I know lies within my head and it’s because of others. It’s like their words are giving experimentations on my brain seeing how long it takes to drive me mad. Thoughts that wish to be forgotten but still remain. I cry myself to sleep because pills are ineffective. My wrist shows evidence of my uselessness. I wasn’t born to live; I was merely born to exist.
I don’t know why I’m here.
YOU ARE READING
suicide
PoetryYou bullied me.... now we're both the same. I don't know why you did it. I don't know what I did to you, but I guess it doesn't matter now since I'm dead. And since you're here with me I can only assume that you're dead too. So now we can spend an e...
