My own body,
Rejects these emotions,
This sadness.
When I feel so intensely,
I become sick,
I think I may throw up.
Though,
My body hardly rejects the pain,
Which I inflict upon it.
It just takes it,
Almost willingly;
Almost as if it wants it.
My eyes became accustomed,
To the constant tears.
I can feel them coming,
Even before I know what's wrong.
They also know to look away,
When a reflective surface is near.
My mouth is stuck to smiling,
Even when I cry,
Even when I hurt,
And especially when I'm alone.
It forces itself to stay closed,
When the thoughts threaten to pour out.
My hands always go to what they know:
The pulling,
The ripping,
The bleeding.
They can always find the spot,
That's seen the abuse before.
My mind keeps being dragged to the same place.
The terrible memories,
The depreciating thoughts,
All tear apart my fragile heart.
But it's used to this.
There's never a break.
My body works together,
To make sure I can function around people,
And crumble on my own.
Now that I'm all alone,
It gets harder and harder,
To find something to be whole for.
YOU ARE READING
Nobody Believes Me
PoetryJust a book of random poetry, short stories, and whatever else I felt the need to write. Enjoy I guess :^) Completed.
