The Story of That Night

Trigger Warning: mental illnesses; doesn't mention any self-harm or suicide but can be assumed A poem I wrote about an old friend of mine, I am okay

I tried to speak out, but you said I lied

I tried to show you that something was wrong, but you missed all the clues

I told you I was sad, but you told me to hide

I  told you what they did to me, but you told me not to accuse

I told you I was in pain, but you couldn’t see it, so you didn’t believe it

I told you I was tired, but you only told me to rest

I tried to make friends, but they called me a misfit

I tried to survive this, but my mind was always stressed

I gave you all the signs

But you kept misreading them

Maybe you should have read between the lines

But at least I am finally numb