"Please don't be mad, I'm sorry..."
If only I was mad...
I wish I was mad.
If I was mad, I'd get over it.
If I was mad, I'd get my anger out and feel better.
If I was mad, we'd talk it out and come to a solution.
If I was mad, I might yell or scream, break things and throw stuff, but I'd get over it and move on in the end.
Anger is a temporary emotion, meant to be forgotten.
Being mad is easy...
But I'm not mad, I'm hurt.
Because I'm hurt I feel broken and unwanted.
Because I'm hurt, I cry and shut down. Instead of yelling and making myself heard.
Because I'm hurt, I want to crawl into a dark corner and never come out.
Because I'm hurt, I don't want to look at myself or talk to anyone.
Because I'm hurt, I wonder to myself "can I ever win?"
Because I'm hurt, I wish I was mad.
YOU ARE READING
Words of reality
PoetrySome short poems that can be interpreted however you want to. They're inner feelings and deep thoughts. Take what you want from them but to me they are the words of reality
