in the 5th or 6th grade - you can't recall exactly - you started to believe that you were honestly soulless. not in a way that many people discussed with devil horns and cackling over cauldrons: no, you didn't want the pain of others. rather, it was that you lacked the certain elemental spark which had filled you during childhood. it was as if one day out in the cold, your essential light simply fell asleep and now refused to respond to your pleas. it was an emptiness rather than an anger.
you have since developed too many ways of washing the stain out. she asks you why you fill your time helping others even to the extent that you are exhausted, you don't know how to explain that unless you have worn your body down to the roots, you will not sleep at night, haunted by whatever darkness still lives inside of you.
someone once told you that the kindest people are the saddest. you don't think you're even that good of a person. it's selfish, really. you have this sick, frantic daydream that if you help others, someone might eventually turn around and reciprocate the gesture.
-inkskinned tumblr user.
-I just
YOU ARE READING
Emotions
PoetryI guess this is a sister book to thoughts, it's the same gist I guess. Emotions is full of little poems, thoughts and of course emotions so here you go, enjoy (highest ranking #202 poetry)
