Scars

I want to be happy,

I want to smile.

But why should I smile and be happy,

When I have no reason for joy?

Nothing good has happened,

Nothing sweet will be said,

If I keep carrying this, my dread.

I have a fear of death,

Yet I used to play with knives.

I have a fear of blood,

But I used to like making mine drip.

I thought that no one cared,

Because I'm always pushed away or ignored.

I have become used to that,

But that doesn't mean it doesn't bother me.

If only someone would give me a reason to smile,

Instead of making me cry.

Reviews

[Bob Sherunkle]

Feelings ring true,beautiful write Aurora

[Louise Winter]

This poem is beautiful
So similar to the style of mine - the emotions in this really stand out and hit me hard.
Well done - this poem is amazing