We give brilliant advice
Yet we refuse to use them ourselves.
We sit there torturing us,
Without realizing what it does.
Our own emotions turn raw and weak
Until our hearts begin to obsessively seep.
Hiding our agonizing pain,
from which we become completely drained.
Do we love? Or should we hate?
Will we ever be fixed? Or always try to crawl out of this ditch?
Our chest burns from fury,
Our insides burn from hurt.
We don't wish for people to be like us, stuck in an endless shell
but how could we not want them to share our hell?
The past will never be the past to us,
We make ourselves live in it, thus it can never be masked.
Others try to cheer us up as if they care,
The voices tell you and I it's a lie,
why would someone care? Because the truth is, they wouldn't dare.
"I find it kind of funny, I find it kind of sad. The dreams in which I'm dying are the best I've ever had."
YOU ARE READING
Distant Reality
Poetry*Rating: I'm not sure if this should be PG or G because I dont know what direction I will take it yet -on description wise- Just in case I made it PG. This is my set of POETRY! Some of these upcoming works will also go into what this world has...
