It hurts.
You'll never know exactly what I mean when I say that it hurts.
It stings.
Toxic words cut deeper than you think.
I'm all alone, not that it matters right?
You know I'm alone and you know I cry at night.
Don't you say that you love me!
Don't.
Your useless words can never be backed up by physical facts.
It hurts.
It genuinely hurts.
Keep telling me you want me to get better as you beat me farther into the dirt.
You're an asshole, you know that?
I can't get better you dumbass!
Every blissful word you speak to me drives daggers through my skin.
What does that mean?
I guess you'll never know.
I'm miserable, dude, I have nowhere to go.
Dude.
That's what you call me.
Not anything cute, nothing lovely.
I hate you.
You bring me hours of despair.
I love you.
You act like you don't care.
What do I mean to you?
Do I mean anything?
Guess I'll never know.
YOU ARE READING
Why Don't I Write You A Poem
PoesíaI write poetry all the time to an empty audience. I don't expect posting it here to be any different but at least I'm putting my work out there.
