It Hurts To Love.

Bruised, battered and hated on,

Never gone against them, never won

Nothing in my life is good,

Always covering myself, wearing a hood.

Cuts and scars, both arm and leg,

Got on my knees, to pray and beg.

Hated myself for doing this,

The sting from the cut, beginning to hiss.

But when this is just a dream,

Is all not just what it seems?
When you see yourself in the mirror,

Is it far from what you see, or nearer?

The hate, bundled with the love,

The hugs and kisses, then the shove,

Does it not send you over,

The smell of blood, the ever-staying odour?

Choose your priorities, get it right,

Don't get into another fight.

The pain, the hurt, kills me inside,

The continuous support, the horrid incite.

But when do you ever cross the line?
Is it when people realise that you finally shine,

In the sport that you all call bruising?

Or is it when you smile while hurting, just cruising?

But the love takes over, with no control,

Making you wish that you'd fall in a black hole,

The pain it bears me, to say "I love you",

Even though you use me like a dirty shoe.

Having nobody care about you, knowing the fact,

Them knowing you're broken, that you have cracked,

Does it not hurt to see, someone on the floor,

Wishing you'd say those three words, them knocking on your door?

Do you now see how hard it is to love?