Can’t You See?
I stand here, shaking,
My lungs are aching,
And I can no longer speak.
I treat you with my words,
And I sing like a bird.
I'm out of breath, but you can't see.
My arms are violet,
My cries are quite,
But my mind has been broken, too.
You flailed in frustration,
But in your fixation,
You broke the arms I offered to you.
My knees are growing weak.
Oh, how I wish I could speak
So that I might ask you to save me.
But even if I could, I'd stay silent.
I'd stay here for you no matter how violent,
Even if you bludgeoned me badly.
I care for you dearly,
But you're slowly killing me,
And my heart is starting to flood.
Your anger has cut my veins,
And I can't cover what remains.
Now you can see my rotting, black blood.
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This is a vent poem I wrote a few months ago because I was feeling overwhelmed by trying to help so many other people with their personal problems while not having enough time to deal with mine. I was getting a bit more irritated with each person that I was sure I was going to lash out, but I managed not to.