when they look you in the eyes
and they tell you that pain is a poetic thing
they are not to be trusted.
pain, is waking up at 3 am wracked with sobs that tear through you and leave you feeling like your hollow
pain, is staring at yourself in a mirror until the picture distorts and you can see the monster you are
pain, is crying so hard that you start to dry heave
pain is panic attacks on the kitchen floor. pain is screaming into your pillow to muffle the sound. pain is learn to not shake with sobs so you don't wake someone else up. pain is walking into a room and feeling everyone's eyes dragging on you like knives.
pain, is not poetic.
pain is learning how to fight and giving yourself a reputation for violence because even though all you ever wanted was to be loved, you learned that to be feared was your only hope.
it's having to be strong for another person even when you want to scream at them and ask them why, just one time, they can't be strong for you.
it is resentment.
it is trust issues.
it is hate and sadness and emptiness and anger.
it is not poetic.
YOU ARE READING
Aggressively Kind
PoetryThese are my poems. This is my story. This is my voice, my stance, my thought. This is me.
