I'm blaming you for who I am now.
Too weak to
Walk away;
Too soft to
Tell you my feelings.
So I sit and I stare,
My anger a dull throbbing in
My right temple,
Clenching my jaw.
The sadness is deepening my
Permanent frown,
Knitting my brow.
Disappointment makes me restless,
Tying knots in my gut.
You make me want to scream
At the top of my lungs
In a way which everybody will hear me,
And my throat is raw.
Darkening eyes
As I reread our conversation from
Just two days ago,
Hating what you've turned me into.
Hating that you've made me care.
Hating that you've made me human.
So now the pessimism takes over,
And I pick at the blue polish on my index finger,
Frowning at the fleeting thought of
You'd say this color looks nice.
I miss you.
YOU ARE READING
Screaming Through Oblivion
Poetry"Hell is other people." ~Jean-Paul Sartre. Always expect the worst- it eliminates disappointment. An odd collection of mostly depressing poetry, because I'm a depressed and depressing person.
