Those thoughts always swimming through my head,
Every word a judgment to be said,
For it is not the judgment of others that bothers me,
For you see,
The ones who really make me hurt,
Are those I love who treat themselves like dirt,
And that of my reflection in the mirror,
Could it be more clearer?
That I hate myself?
I'm just a broken mess of glass laying on a shelf,
Within an illustration of a girl who looks the same,
I always feel I'm to blame,
For problems of those who are close,
And I feel as though it really shows,
That we are a broken family in a mess of different places,
Soon we will be unrecognisable with different faces,
Lurking under masks,
Of a new life, some of us still hiding with our flasks,
And drink away the memories and the day,
What could we say?
To one another when we see each other,
But rather,
We are still the same and yet different, In our own ways,
All our thoughts astray,
And I'm still here, haunted by judgments,
Filling myself with corruption,
Near the point of destruction,
For all I feel is disdain,
And I feel just like a loathsome stain,
Upon this "PERFECT" society,
I feel as though I'm in a mist of my own punishment,
Upon my self in a form of cruel words,
But how can someone love me,
If I don't even love myself?
Authors note: I will not be updating for the next few days since I will be on camp but I will resume at the usual all over the place pace as soon as I get back ^.^
YOU ARE READING
.Hidden in chaos.
Poetry//Poetry// My ears burn from the sound of tangled wires, My translucent eyes reflecting off the glass like wildfires, I desire to close my eyes, And embrace the darkness, the light of which I despise; I'm surrounded by a lifeless shadow. There are m...
