you yell at me for being so nonchalant, so heartless. you scream at me for caring less. my paranoia disgusts you. you look at me with disdain when you finally learn of my addiction. you mock me when you learn of my frequent escape into imaginations and day dreams. you chuckle when i tell you about my depression, ignoring my silent cries, then claiming it's all just teenage tantrums.
you don't like me, you don't like the person i am, you hate the monster i've become. i hate it too, i hate me too, but how about i tell you that i am the monster you made.
they are the monsters you made. she is slowly becoming the monster you are making.
we are the monsters you made.
why do you think i write a lot, i do -- and i've being doing since i was young -- to escape from my reality, a reality that has slowly merged to a hell, this harsh reality that constantly involves you, both of you.
now, i wonder, did they ever find a way to escape or have they being drowning in the screams, yells and unending wail. have they being drowning in you, in both of you?.
when halsey said i couldn't stand the person inside me, i turned all the mirrors around, i felt that.
it's crawling, fighting, battling to come forth, to show it's face, but i don't want it to, i keep it at bay with all the strength i have in me, though, most times, i'm always tempted to let you come face to face with the monster you made.
____ ellie a. o.
YOU ARE READING
Something Mending -- VOL 1
PoetryOf Breaking hearts, young love, betrayal and pain. Of Mending hearts, familiar pain, unexpected hurt and aftermath. Of Healing hearts, underated heartache, pain and acceptance. Of Love, Love that is as deep sea. Pain, that knows no bounds. Strength...
