You are "so sick and tired of my shit."
You are suffering and so you must inflict that suffering on me. This is how it goes. You see fit to stop caring and hurt me in return.
The difference is that my mistakes from the past hurt you, but you tear into me now for making them. You force pain upon me now, for problems I had when I did not have you.
I give you love, and you give me love, and you give me grief. To torture me when you torture yourself. You poison yourself and throw away my antidote.
You ask me what our value is. I am struggling, to answer you for the hundredth time. You don't absorb my words, you don't try to see it my way.
Your empathy is broken, your anger is fierce; you put distance between us and judge me harshly from where I cannot reach you. This makes you disloyal and heartless. I am drowning in my sudden loneliness, feeling betrayed by you who I have made myself the most vulnerable to.
These assumptions that I am secretly wretched, my love is cheap and anyone can own a piece of me - they ruin me on the inside. I am writhing from stab wounds meant for a horrible person. I am the one who has loved you with my entire being, which I had not invested in anyone else. Yet you continue to find new ways to paint me as a monster, twisting me into definitions that I do not fit. Your views are skewed, they magnify grotesque details instead of realizing the fault was unintended and the future holds correction and redemption.
I have made mistakes and gotten very lost in this world of hate, uncertainty, and dishonor. I have fallen down a darkness that still haunts me.
However, from the destruction I have risen above my past and recognized my worth. You helped me realize my worth. And now you are scared and full of doubt, caused by a single moment of disturbance, lashing out to protect yourself. Through your eyes, beneath all my progress, you still see a tainted girl who is not special. I am incapable, no matter how hard I try, to make you feel special.
I am dying, bleeding out the life in me that you will not accept.
YOU ARE READING
My Poetry Is Not Like Yours
PoetryI just let myself start writing, opening a pathway for my emotions to spill out in words. It's a kind of therapy, you could say.
