Dear friend.
You asked me to write you a poem, so here I am.
At first I didn't know what to write, but now that I've started,
I can see a clear path of that to write about.
What to tell you.
I mean, I could go on for days.
I always do.
I bring up random memories, whether they're good or bad, it doesn't matter.
They all look the same in my minds judgement.
Only once I've said what I had to say, do I realise what I said.
It's like a late reaction.
I always have a late reaction,
Catch on to your warning once it's too late.
I'm sorry, for that.
There's so much I want to tell you, I almost told you them, but I stopped myself,
Because if I told you then you would question it and investigate further, which brings more questions that I don't have the answers for.
Don't worry, for they aren't about you.
They aren't important, or something you need to worry about.
Sorry for the secrets I keep from you, and I'm sorry for the secrets I've spilled.
Secrets burn and grow inside me, turning into a giant monster that overtakes my mind, distracting me and sometimes leaving me stationary, speechless.
Sometimes you just need to talk to someone, to get something off your chest.
That's what I do, with you.
Now that I've read that I realise how selfish that sounds.
I sometimes feel like I'm using you, even though I'm not.
I hope you don't feel like I use you, I sincerely don't mean to.
I apologise for all the pain I've caused you.
But, I'm too late to take back the pain now.
Then again, it isnt humanly possible to take away someone's pain, but, you can distract them.
Yes, other distractions exist, a distraction for me is writing, thought I write about the things that are bothering me.
You will find your distraction, or maybe you've already found it. Maybe you don't even need a distraction, because maybe you aren't in pain. But for when you are in pain, I hope you have a distraction, because I know how it feels to go in alone, and not know when you'll get out of it.
