Incoherent gestures

it's a poem, I guess.

If the truth is what you want
why does it hurt so bad?
Hearing the blood dance through your veins,
Keeping up with the steady tick of the clock
which hangs upon the wall.
Constant reminders that you always hate.
You think of all the places you could be
With all the people you've never met
As if you'd be any happier once you got there.
It's as if the thought of a better place
Is no longer comforting to you, anymore.
Too scared to face the fact that
Anywhere you go you always carry this


with you.


And this is a thought that you very much so
find hard to stomach.
So alone in bed tonight you lay
Stuck again with these constant reminders
That you always hate.

Reviews

[caesarkreshen]

Hello, I can appreciate the sentiment of this. I used to (and still do?) write stuff like this.

"And this is a thought that you very much so find hard to stomach" is kind of a mouthful.

The word "hate" seems juvenile. It's best expressed through lines, IMO. It's even more taboo than "love" in poetry.

[Heather|Eliza]

Thanks hey. Appreciate the honesty.