Today it just seems
like I'm fucking up everything
I can't seem to be nice
And right now I don't want to be.
I promise I'm no murderer
But he doesn't hear my pleas,
And to him I'll never matter
Even down upon my knees.
I'm sorry, I'm so sorry,
But please leave me all alone
For I'll only bring you down
With each and every face I own.
All the second chances
that I've gotten, I have blown.
But even when Earth's crashing down,
I'll remember to watch my tone.
Nothing ever changes and
It's always me to blame.
They laugh when I obey them
And they hit me when I'm sane.
But it doesn't really matter
I no longer feel the pain.
Numbness throbbing through me
Yet it all just feels the same.
I promise if you met me
You would truly think I'm sweet,
But that doesn't really matter
For we'll probably never meet.
And the sweetness is only
Another mask I keep in case
I need a few new magic tricks
that help me to escape.
I listen to all these problems and
Each day pretend I care
To hide the fact that under the mask,
There's nothing really there.
I'm sorry I'm so shaky
But I have to feel the burn.
Now I look around and realize
Everything I've got, I've earned.
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .Yeah. I don't really have anything to say about this one besides that I'm seriously fucked up right now.
If you really want to know why,
you can ask me, I don't mind.
Though you probably most likely don't
Actually care to know what's inside.
The person who writes you
these poems' a cripple;
At least emotionally,
Psychologically fickle.
So don't you ever ask
if you don't want to hear
About a history of disturbia
Of a mind with no real fear.
This actually kind of ironic considering I was planning on doing something special for my 50th poem. But I had to write this, there wasn't a choice. Oh well, I'll have to do a fancier, nicer poem next time. The number 50 is overated anyway. Psh.
I think I'm going to write it about this girl I just bitched with and then connected in on a whole different level. She seems pretty cool, think I somehow made a new friend by being a shitty person. Yay irony (^:
I was really upset writing this but I'm feeling better now at least. More human again.
~Dustin the Great
YOU ARE READING
The Things I Leave Unsaid
PoetryMy thoughts in poems. I'm not suicidal or even truly unhappy. I'm just confused and lost and I hope someone out there understands. These are the everyday thoughts I have that float around in my mind. This is my life, in poems. I like my poems and I...