Everything hurts.
My fingers ache as I type,
my feet ache,
my legs are sore,
my arms are sore,
and my back is killing me.
And that's only the physical pain.
Don't even get me started on everything else.
But if you decide to heap a little too much on me
just realize
that though I hide my pain well
even I have my limits.
And if you push me far enough
you'll be in for something nasty.
Sometimes I can forgive and forget,
but sometimes
I can never forget.
I may seem like a pushover
but push me far enough
and someone will end up hurt.
So if I walk away
and avoid you,
your best chance
is to leave me be
until I can cool down.
I can't help feeling
like I am a monster
that should be kept on a leash
and too many people decide to taunt me
before realizing
that the leash has snapped.
I am fast
and I am smart
and I am stronger than I look
and if you want to fight,
bring it on.
But I can almost promise you
that you will be the one
stumbling away
blood stained
and scarred
and wishing
you'd never come near me.
As of late
it's gotten a lot harder to control
this temper of mine
and whenever I think I've finally got it,
it flares up again, worse than before.
And the only thing I know to do
is to tell you
to stay away from me
because I am dangerous
and unpredictable
and staying away
is the only thing
that will definitely save you.
So, if I were you,
I'd leave soon
because I can feel the heat rising again
and I don't know if I can push it down this time.
YOU ARE READING
Thoughts and Things
PoesíaA thing. A thing in which I write some poetry. I've never really written much poetry, so... yeah. Exciting. It can get spooky sometimes. (By spooky, I mean that it can get dark. Trigger warning in advance, just in case.) Tread lightly. I'm obviously...