Words whispered harshly
"It's her, again."
Words yelled across the room
"Just shut up!"
Words in disgust
"Ew! Go away."
Words after "Help?"
"Figure it out yourself."
Words after entering a room
"Ugh. She actually wears that?"
Words after confusion
"You're just too stupid to understand."
Words after speaking
"No one cares."
"No wonder you don't have any friends"
echoes through my ears.
Through my mind.
Through my thoughts.
Through my walls.
Through my tears.
Through my tissues.
Permanently carved into my heart.
Words.
That's all they are, but
Should I just shut up?
Do I disgust people?
Should I struggle alone?
Am I stupid?
Should I even talk?
Do I really have friends who care?
Words.
These are not
sticks or stones,
and yet,
they can break a heart.
YOU ARE READING
My Voice Through Poetry
PoetryDepressed + gay = poetry 🤯 ⚠️ TRIGGER WARNING: including (but not limited to) self-harm, abuse, mental hospitals, eating disorders, and suicide.
