Poetry

Her

Each time i speak about her, they tell me to show more respect.

See I don’t hate her,

I despise the cruel being within her,

Unleashing its wrath upon my broken heart.

See, I don’t hate her,

I am saddened by the constant reminder of my flaws,

Judged withing the place I supposedly call home.

See, I don’t hate her,

I hate the scars she doesn’t see caused by her very being,

The inattentive soul unable to see me scream.

You may not believe these uttered words,

Little do you truly know about what goes on behind my smile.

Before you say I am exaggerating, as yourself, “what possibly triggers her anxiety.”

Ps: I don’t hate her…

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s