They say talking helps,
they say writing helps,
they don't know.
They say it's not enough to affect you like that,
they say you will forget about it.
They don't know that the thoughts never stop, the emotions never stop, the hands never stopped.
They don't believe he would do that,
they think it's for attention,
they don't believe me.
They don't get how I could let that happen,
they don't know how fear makes you freeze, unlike the tears that melt down your cheeks.
They confuse my kindness for weakness,
they don't know that my politeness doesn't scream, and that's on me.
•••
It's on me.
I know it's not,
But they don't know anything.
-s.j.
YOU ARE READING
the lost
PoetryThese are a collection of poems ranging from the past to the present of my experiences and struggles with different hardships in my life. I hope that they are found relatable and leave people struggling with similar problems to know they are never a...
