Always feeling like a bother
Wasting time, it's what you feel you're doing.
Like you're
Only taking up space and resources
better served elsewhere
Reserved and confined, convinced it's
horrible for you to ever step
out of line and draw
attention to yourself
Things that are important to you
don't ever seem
interesting to anyone else
Helping with no word of thanks
Lonely like a deleted word misspell
Empathy and empty
Silence
Sad? Sometimes plenty, sometimes not
Forgotten
Emotions unsettled
Every day the exact same
Lying about crying
Instead of telling the truth
Not because of dishonesty, but because
Gravity is heavy and it's pulling down
on crystal blue waves,
with the help of the moon.
And you feel you'll never be that important.
Because you're convinced that
nothing retaining to
you, matters at all
YOU ARE READING
Nobody Was Meant to See
Poetry[Trigger Warning, please be safe when reading] They aren't supposed to know. They aren't meant to read these poems that I'm writing. I've concealed them for a reason. -Shitty poems about how I feel-
