Burdens.
From family, this world, and specifically from
our own selves.
Ever-changing and ever-growing in a person's life. But only the people under these burdens know how heavy they are on their shoulders.
I've always tried to do better, but somehow it is never enough, and now I have no choice but to wonder if I'm ever going to be enough.
They say not to care about what people think of you, but how do they expect me not to when the ones closest to me keep on reminding me how much of a disgrace I am to this world?
I write my feelings down with the aim that maybe these negative feelings of mine will go away, but every single time I am back in my room, I secretly scribble down more and more stuff.
I never feel satisfied with anything I do, no matter how big or small it may be.
I feel myself slowly slipping down that dark hole again with no reaction other than making fake promises to myself that it is going to be okay when, deep inside, I know it's not.
It never was, and it never will be okay.- - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
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𝐌𝐞𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐡𝐨𝐥𝐲
Poetry"𝐓𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐰𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐧𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐰 𝐨𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐛𝐨𝐝𝐲 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐝𝐞𝐞𝐩𝐞𝐫 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐡𝐮𝐫𝐭𝐟𝐮𝐥 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐧 𝐚𝐧𝐲𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐛𝐥𝐞𝐞𝐝𝐬." . . . Poems which delve into emotions of sadness and desp...