You know that feeling
I really hate?
Its a feeling that
bullies appreciate.
I hate the feeling
of the inability to cry
no matter what you do,
you can't no
matter how hard you try.
When something upsets you
to a certain extent,
when all you want
is for your life to end,
you get that:
lump-in-the-throat
dry-eyed-can't-breathe
Feeling that's known
as the inability to cry.
As much as you want
to let the grief out,
your eyes stay bone-dry.
When everyone around you is
happy and content
you wonder where your
own happiness went.
Its not in the air,
It's definitely not in those,
" I-don't-like-you" stares.
Along with the inability to cry,
sometimes you get that inability to care;
the inability to feel
any hope that is shared.
You're stuck in a never ending cycle
of bleak despair;
How can it be possible
that someone could care?
It gets to the point that
you finally give up.
Your last resort is to
bleed and to cut.
The inability to care:
When no one else does.
Where's the point in doing so,
if there's no one to share the love?
You're so deep in pain,
hate, anger, and denial
you don't care about life,
or of facing its trials.
You could care less if your life
is taken.
Why should you,
when its you that's forsaken?
But deep beneath all this
is a sane soul
that knows
that you want to live.
You just don't know how.
You keep all your emotions
inside and bottled.
So on the outside,
you're happy, a number one model.
But deep down, there's a
dark boiling red.
Anger and hate
that only beg to be fed.
From all this comes the
inability to cry.
I really hate?
Its a feeling that
bullies appreciate.
I hate the feeling
of the inability to cry
no matter what you do,
you can't no
matter how hard you try.
When something upsets you
to a certain extent,
when all you want
is for your life to end,
you get that:
lump-in-the-throat
dry-eyed-can't-breathe
Feeling that's known
as the inability to cry.
As much as you want
to let the grief out,
your eyes stay bone-dry.
When everyone around you is
happy and content
you wonder where your
own happiness went.
Its not in the air,
It's definitely not in those,
" I-don't-like-you" stares.
Along with the inability to cry,
sometimes you get that inability to care;
the inability to feel
any hope that is shared.
You're stuck in a never ending cycle
of bleak despair;
How can it be possible
that someone could care?
It gets to the point that
you finally give up.
Your last resort is to
bleed and to cut.
The inability to care:
When no one else does.
Where's the point in doing so,
if there's no one to share the love?
You're so deep in pain,
hate, anger, and denial
you don't care about life,
or of facing its trials.
You could care less if your life
is taken.
Why should you,
when its you that's forsaken?
But deep beneath all this
is a sane soul
that knows
that you want to live.
You just don't know how.
You keep all your emotions
inside and bottled.
So on the outside,
you're happy, a number one model.
But deep down, there's a
dark boiling red.
Anger and hate
that only beg to be fed.
From all this comes the
inability to cry.
This poem to me felt like a warning sign for those who may throw certain words around too casually. They can hurt you just as easily as anything else, but these injuries take much longer to heal. If they don't heal, they just fester inside of yourself until you are consumed from the inside out and can't stand to stick around any longer. The most important thing is to remember that life is too precious of a gift to give up so easily, and while it may not be something you want to deal with now, the eye of the storm is always there. All you have to do is find it.
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