I sit here,
I put in so much effort,
So that all of you know,
That you can come to talk to me,
Because I'll help you.
I swear you all take from me,
And never give anything back.
Is what I try to do, for all of you,
Really that worthless?
Yes, I'm a pushover.
Yes, I'll let you drag me around,
But I can't keep doing this,
I can't keep pretending I'm a fighter,
When all I am is weak.
You all know that I can't stand up,
That I can't fight for myself.
Yet it seems you all take advantage of that,
You know I'll never challenge you,
So you continue to use me,
With what seems to be no regret,
No remorse for how it kills me.
Yes,
I feel used.
Does it hurt to hear that?
To read that?
Do you feel any pain,
Knowing that I'm falling apart,
And none of you can really see it?
YOU ARE READING
Just A Mess
PoetryI'm not too sure as to what this is, but I often get bored and lost in my thoughts, so why not write them out? As I wrote I created poetic sentences, lines and phrases. So, I hope they can be enjoyed despite their mainly heavy topics. This book cove...
