Obscurred Me

69 2 1

I’ve been hiding myself from all of you.

You may think you know all about me, but you don’t.

Not the real me, just the me I show most people.

I’ve never showed you me.

I’ve never showed anyone me.

I don’t want anyone to know me.

I don’t want anyone to know about how I cut my wrist.

I don’t want anyone to know what goes through my mind when I do it.

I don’t want anyone to know how I felt when he touched me.

I don’t want anyone to know about how I let him touch me.

I don’t want anyone to know what I mean when I say “I’m fine, just tired.”

I don’t want anyone to know what I think of when I hold a cigarette in between me fingers.

I don’t want anyone to know whose heartbeat I hear when I’m using my dog as a pillow.

I don’t want anyone to know why I live in books instead of my life.

If I really didn’t want anyone to know would I still write this?

If I really didn’t want help would I say this?

If I really didn’t care if the pain went away would I still think about saying any of this?

If I really didn’t want help would I still use this as my last cry for help?

This poem is dedicated to anyone who thinks they know me or wants to help me because they can help me and probably have.

My Poems of Pain and SadnessRead this story for FREE!