I struggle with a lot of things;
Emotion is one of them.
Yes, everyone feels something,
but it is possible to over-feel, isn't it?
Maybe my thoughts and feelings are just too simple for me to explain
or just that complex.
It is as though, someone merely poked me with a finger,
yet I am left with a stab wound.
Over years of being mistreated by people I should be able to rely on,
I have become a resentful and untrusting person.
Sometimes, I am apathetic.
I could careless.
And other times, I cannot control my mind from conjuring up old hurts.
I am like a mutant of some sort, or a strange fictional character:
The girl halfway in reality and halfway in the past,
Halfway in what could have been and halfway in fact.
Is one capable of caring too much,
and not caring enough?
If so, I believe I have accomplished that.
I feel so alone,
and then I want to be alone.
There's a civil war going on inside of me.
Nothing is at ease,
or at peace.
Especially not my mind.
I'm not angry with God anymore.
I used to blame him, or yell at him.
What for?
I came to the conclusion that I was the problem,
the sole problem.
Why else would people trample me so freely?
Why else would someone use me as the scapegoat to her lies?
Why else would I be the one put out of a job?
Why else would I be the one pushed around?
I write countless of poems,
poems that try to reflect whatever is inside of me.
A broken heart, a broken person, a broken spirit.
Whatever the hell is left in this person I am.
I was forced to be here,
but no one knows how many times I begged God to take my life.
Selfishly. I asked him so many times.
Out of hurt, I tried to cut myself,
Out of rage, I swallowed my pain, never to share the depth,
only causing a huge black hole to evolve in my heart.
I asked God why couldn't he fill it, or better yet, why WOULDN'T he?
And he would put me at ease,
and then I would forget him,
thinking I was free from the emptiness, the hurt and rage.
But the bottled up emotion was not gone.
Little by little, I would be reminded of all of it.
Friends ripped me up,
Strangers destroyed my reputation.
I gave people too much of myself,
people who didn't care.
And to the people who should have loved me,
I am a disappointment, or a burden.
But they don't know half of who I am.
I live underneath the surface.
Emotion is one of them.
Yes, everyone feels something,
but it is possible to over-feel, isn't it?
Maybe my thoughts and feelings are just too simple for me to explain
or just that complex.
It is as though, someone merely poked me with a finger,
yet I am left with a stab wound.
Over years of being mistreated by people I should be able to rely on,
I have become a resentful and untrusting person.
Sometimes, I am apathetic.
I could careless.
And other times, I cannot control my mind from conjuring up old hurts.
I am like a mutant of some sort, or a strange fictional character:
The girl halfway in reality and halfway in the past,
Halfway in what could have been and halfway in fact.
Is one capable of caring too much,
and not caring enough?
If so, I believe I have accomplished that.
I feel so alone,
and then I want to be alone.
There's a civil war going on inside of me.
Nothing is at ease,
or at peace.
Especially not my mind.
I'm not angry with God anymore.
I used to blame him, or yell at him.
What for?
I came to the conclusion that I was the problem,
the sole problem.
Why else would people trample me so freely?
Why else would someone use me as the scapegoat to her lies?
Why else would I be the one put out of a job?
Why else would I be the one pushed around?
I write countless of poems,
poems that try to reflect whatever is inside of me.
A broken heart, a broken person, a broken spirit.
Whatever the hell is left in this person I am.
I was forced to be here,
but no one knows how many times I begged God to take my life.
Selfishly. I asked him so many times.
Out of hurt, I tried to cut myself,
Out of rage, I swallowed my pain, never to share the depth,
only causing a huge black hole to evolve in my heart.
I asked God why couldn't he fill it, or better yet, why WOULDN'T he?
And he would put me at ease,
and then I would forget him,
thinking I was free from the emptiness, the hurt and rage.
But the bottled up emotion was not gone.
Little by little, I would be reminded of all of it.
Friends ripped me up,
Strangers destroyed my reputation.
I gave people too much of myself,
people who didn't care.
And to the people who should have loved me,
I am a disappointment, or a burden.
But they don't know half of who I am.
I live underneath the surface.
No comments:
Post a Comment