rancid pewter
today, i heard my own voice,
and for the first time, i realized how much i hate it
that’s not me.
that’s someone that hates the world,
someone with so little regard for the wellbeing of others
that’s not me.
that’s someone filled with so much despair that they take it out on everyone they see
that’s not me.
i find beauty in everything i set my eyes on,
i care so much for the people around me
but i don’t reach out
i tend to not get too close
i don’t deserve to take up so much space in their lives,
they don’t deserve to have that space taken up by me
i’m meant to be forgotten,
or at least a memory you don’t care enough to completely recall
maybe i’m the problem
maybe i’m just not meant to be apart of anything
maybe i am that voice i heard
something so harsh, barbaric even
maybe i don’t care as much as i think i do
maybe i am as “selfish” as my mother stated that day
but i hope that’s not how the people i care for see me
i hope they can at least see that i’m trying
even when she doesn’t
even when she berates every thought i possess
every little thing i can’t control
every bit of enjoyment i express
- revisited a poem i’d posted a couple days ago. thought i’d share :p
vague tundra