The Pain Contained On the Inside
Scratched wrists, bruised thighs,
empty stomach, and a full over thinking mind.
I just don't know what to do anymore, should I give up?
Then everyone would win, and everyone will be satisfied.
It wouldn't matter though, I'd be dead.
I wouldn't know, nor would I have the ability to care.
I'm empty, and nothing can fix that.
I have been torn, ripped, scratched, given up on, heartbroken,
lost, shot at, bruised, crumpled up, and kicked around.
I am so damn tired now,
tired of all the pain, misery, cold beds, and a lightless life.
No, no, I cannot give up now!
I cannot give up on something that I have done my whole life.
I will not only survive, but I will live.
Share This Poem