black poems

fighting the wrong battles

We pon our hearts,
Trying to find beginnings,
But when it allways comes to an end,
We must pretend it didn't hurt,
Crying only in private,
We cry ourselves to sleep,
Because we're climbing hills that are too steep,
We call them mountains,
But we may never make it to the top,
We are made to sit and watch everything fall apart,
And then we hit restart,
We repeat our mistakes,
And find new ways to cope,
All we had to to was hang from a rope,
And hope everything would be better tomorrow,
But we couldn't handle the sorrow we felt,
So we let go,
We allways let go,
Or get dropped off the deep end,
Still struggling to pretend that it doesn't hurt,
That it wasn't all just a big mistake,
That we will only continue to make,
There are chances that we will always take,
And we will only get hurt from the ones we thought loved us back,
So we backtrack to where it all went wrong,
But that's the thing,
It was never right,
And it was only ever a fight..