A Helping Hand

Life is a lot less lonely when you have people who understand and relate to you.

You can tell that I’m lying, 

I promised you, 

That i’m fine

But really I’m just tired of fighting

Fighting with you,

Fighting myself

Fighting for my life 

To have some kind of meaning

The day's drone on

They seem to go by fast

The good times never seem to last

They are as fleeting as the morning sun

I never said I was extraordinary

In fact, I think I'm more of a burden

I continuously hurt others

Because I’m always hurting

These words don’t seem to make sense

I’m tired of all the pretense

My entire life seems to be a joke

I’m lost, 

holding onto the past 

I don’t seem to understand why my heart is always bleeding

When i continuously wear it on my sleeve

Waiting for something to believe in

My life is a comparison game

Between who i am inside

And who i show the outside 

If it was life or death 

Would I  be able to distinguish the two?

The point of all this is to say

I’m not who i thought i would be

But sometimes i don’t think that’s so bad

When the entire world seems to be mad

I want to help others who feel the same pain

I have no words of wisdom

Nothing for you to gain

Except  maybe a smiling face

And a helping hand

Reviews

[Cyprian Van Dyke]

You summed this up remarkably. Only the bottled-up emotions that get finer with age can yield such ink. Wonderfully explained and expressed poem. tyfs

[beauitifulybroken]

Thank you for such kind words. I'm so happy it resonated with you