a freudian slip told me that they could fix me and I believed them for sometime.
sat on the floor wondering why.
now I can't sit still in those situations.
always feel eyes over my shoulders as I try to curl in smaller.
I felt shooting under my skin, wanted to fix all of the parts and make them bend
weilding hate, I might just break, like you broke her
I was whittled into tiny pieces so you could forgive me.
so I'll try to forgive them.
I'll forgive myself.
they don't seem to listen to me anymore.
I'm just talking to their shadow.
Looks right at me and then away.
I've been sent to run in circles hoping for some kind of reward.
I don't want to wallow in what I don't have
but today they didn't listen.
and they never will.
I went there yesterday.
where we met and thought I saw you and I didn't know what I felt.
did I finally feel my confused heart from when you convinced it that it was loved?
or was it the wind escaping my lungs as I relived your repeated assaults on my confidence?
or was it simply a smudged memory of you bleeding into a face so I never feel secure again?
sometimes I'm a bit cruel to myself.
putting everyone else above, and as Atlas carried the weight of the world, I carry thoughts.
some with easy way outs. others I'm ashamed by.
hiding them under my bed, keep them locked inside my head so then I won't have to cope.
as when they don't have a name they aren't real.