If Only I Could Write For You...

This is an old poem... when I first fell for the sun but could only write about the monster... now there are different monsters... but the same light.

It hurts me more than it hurts you,

             You have no idea what I’m going through.

I am nothing.

            Nothing but a face.

I deserve nothing.

            I don’t deserve you.

What do I write for?

Who do I write for?

            I write for him.

Why?

            I don’t know,

It’s easier this way.

            For I only know pain.

Each piece like a small drop of rain.

            Destroying themselves against my window pain.

Every hope, each dream, all love and the plenty of ideas.

            Are there for a second but always end up gone and shattered.

My body and soul, broken and battered.

            You are so good you are so sweet

I hope someday our souls will meet,

            For now they will not.

I cannot write for you.

            With your pure and perfect hue.

My sad and distraught aura

            Devouring all that is good.

Everything is dead inside,

            Where nothing but self loathing and pain reside.

Even now I do not write for you,

            I write for the monster in the night.

He’ll never know my pain.

            Monsters never do,

His pale, his black, his colors of resentment.

Bring me to my forever

            My dystopia.

You golden your light your sun wrenched skin

            You’re my utopia

I shall not receive.

            For every tear I do not shed,

I’m slowly losing my head.

            For every lie I tell

I’m drowning in this hell

            Every food I avoid

A shrinking stomach, inside I am destroyed.

            For every smile I fake,

I do it for your sake.

                                    Everything that I am.

                        It’s all a lie.

                                                            I’ve stopped asking why

            I know I am alone.

                                    I deserve no one to know.

                        I am Alive.

                                                            Never know my Shrive.

            It’s all a secret.                         It’s all a failure.

                                    All this sadness, all this hate, all this pain that I have carried

Will remain with me forever as I am buried. 

Reviews

[Danielle]

Very well expressed raw emotion. Nice poem!

[Fish]

Thank you! ^.^