I know they don't mean it.
Too exclude me like this.
I know they don't think this is how I would feel about it.
I know they mean the best in every possible way.
I know that they aren't meaning any harm my way.
But I still see it that way.
I feel that they don't want me.
That they will discard me.
That they don't care.
The cycle that never stops.
The endless thinking, the poisonous thoughts.
Why would they listen?
Why would they care?
When everyone's with them, even I'm here.
I'm stuck in a void of which there is no escape.
The loneliness of the darkness fuels the pain.
YOU ARE READING
It's a Sometimes thing
PuisiA collection of poems I've written that span over many years. They are pretty depressive so please read with caution.
