My Beloved Raven,

i

Dear Raven, help me.

I get it now.
The pain,
it's a part
of being alive.
And that
sometimes
people feel sad
about the smallest things
because it reminds them
of something greater.

Something so much greater,
they cannot move it.
It doesn't budge.

I say they,
because
I'm scared
that when
I say
I cannot
move it,
it's finally
going to
crush me.

It's like telling
someone you hate
that they affect you.
That it's not indifference
you're displaying,
it's hatred,
it's fear.

And it's always gonna
be here. It's always
gonna hurt. It's always
gonna feel hard to write about.

Because this is my pain
and it weighs a thousand worlds.
And it's hard putting it into words,
because my paper cannot hold it.
But I want it to and no,
I don't wanna share it.

I just want to scream
at my rock of pain
until it screams back at me.

I want to cut at it
until it cuts back.

Anything to make it
tell me that it's alive.
That it's not immortal.

My raven, my rock,
tell me
I did that to you.
Made you break
your silence.
That I can
move mountains.

I know you'd rather
tell me
I can swim
across the Pacific
for all you care
and it still
wouldn't make
a damn difference.

But you don't
tell me that either.

Just talk to me. Please.
Tell me you hate me.
Tell me I scare you.
Tell me you understand m̶y̶  pain.

—《♡》—

I didn't even know this book would come to exist until this afternoon.

I wanna write stories but then I end up writing poetry. What is my life.