When someone says, “What’s the problem?” my first response is, “Me.”
When someone asks, “Why are you crying?” my first answer is, “Me.”
When someone says, “There is no point,” my first reply is, “I agree.”
See, I’ve studied every other possible answer, but these are the ones I find most true.
When someone says, “What’s the problem?” my first response is, “Me.”
They were so awful to me,
And yet
They seemed to care.
They manipulated,
Twisted,
Hurt,
And destroyed me.
And yet I can't
Seem to let them go.
Even knowing
How badly they could
I'm scared.
I can't believe we're here
Again.
I can't believe this is reality
Again.
Four years
They say.
It's only four years.
But it's four years
Of a living hell for me.
They laugh
The sorrow I know
Is like no other.
It is too deep
Too raw
Too real.
And as I stand here
Within its everlasting clutches
I find little bursts of hope.
And these little burst of light
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