Seams

If everyone spoke like my therapist , I would have no problem with this world at all.

If everyone were truly the expert on my feelings that they think they are, I would never fault.

If all we truly needed was love, to take away all the pain.

If only all we needed was love, if only I could change.

People turn away leaving you to the blistering cold.

Then they burn you with words that hurt you. Scorching your soul.

Dreams are merely pleasant memories that never happened. Broken hearts suffer broken promises.

Misunderstandings are the misuse of words and emotions. Arguing to assert verbal dominance.

You hurt me by referring to me secretly as lazy. You burned me with your blindness.

You hurt me by not understanding. You burn me when your words are so mindless.

I try to explain to everyone, but no one sees what my disease truly does inside.

You only see the outside and the behavior. You never see underneath where I really did tried.

I want to cry. I want to give up everything and stop eating. Stop EVERYTHING.

I want to die. I want to give up. I just want to give up and stop trying to explain my empty energy.

So many people do what they think is confronting the problem: an intervention.

These interventions are pushing me back farther and digging deeper into  the cuts and scrapes in existence without presentation.

I want to blame you, but again, instead, I more want to destroy myself.

You blame me. So again, instead, I simply want to destroy what belongs to no one else: my hell. Myself.

You can't laugh me away. But you try while hiding a label you've placed on my back thinking I didn't see it.

You can't pretend to be harmless when you're not the one who would feel the harm done. You can't feel it.

I am far too delicate and I hate it. I hate it with all the passion in world.

I am far too dedicated to hating myself because no one understands this damaged hopeless grown woman who is actually a little girl.

I swear I tried. I tried. I tried. Then I gave up.

I died. I died. I died. I gave up.