Last night I went to bed at 12, woke up an hour later, then 20 minutes, then at 2:30, then at 4:30. All worried sick about you. Worried that i would wake up and you wouldn't be at school. Every time i drifted off, it was the same thing. You and I were walking around a series of cliffs. Every time we reached the edge, you pushed me off. I would fall a bit, and land on an outstretch of rocks. Sobbing, I looked up at you and you would look at me with the contempt you do everyday. Then you would begin to walk away, only to slip and fall near enough to me i can almost reach you but every time, every god damn time i reach for you, you yank your arm away and fall past me. Every time, I looked over the edge to see you hit the ground and shatter like glass. I cant do this anymore. I need you to be real with me. There is no chance. None at all. I will never be good enough and yeah that sucks but i cant accept it until you tell me. Hate me, pity me, whatever. just dont fuck with my head anymore. dont let me continue to fuck with my own head.
Oh honey, but I am made of glass. I am a beaten and cracked piece of glass but no one can see the cracks. All my cracks are microscopic but so important. If anything hits just the right spot, I will shatter into a million pieces. Fragments will be splayed across the vast, open wasteland of the bathroom floor. But please, whatever you do, do not step inside. You will get cut and the blood will mix, become infected by each other. My shards will become imbedded in your skin like my memory is in your soul. Please stay away from this room, whatever you do. It is so dangerous for you. Let me keep you safe this one time. Safe from the madness that lies within these walls I call my head. I can't stand the pain that I have been putting everyone through, I just want to be happy and help everyone else be happy. I'm tired of the pain that I put myself through by not being able to just love someone who loves me as much as my heart can empathize. I just want the pain to disappear.
YOU ARE READING
The Poems That Are Me
PoetryThese poems have been written by a beloved friend of mine as well as myself. My friend and I have been put through Hell but we have figured out that by putting our feelings in words, our wording is excruciatingly poetic.
