Poetry.

Here you will find all my secrets that I have left untold, words and thoughts that I myself never could unfold. Real and imagination will clash into one, don't loose interest before all has begun

[riverw-poetry]

You all seem to think I'm being dramatic. But the last time he chased me, hurt me, I talked back because I had a feeling that he might kill me, and I didn't want to die without getting it off my chest

[riverw-poetry]

I'm the oldest son, they knew I would figure it out, "they trusted me", So they never checked in

I always seemed fine, because I had to be.

I made things easier for them, but it never felt easy for me.

They said I didn't need much, so I never needed out loud.

I never asked for much, because I learned not to expect anything.

I always knew my role, but I never got to choose it

[riverw-poetry]

Maybe I want to be hurt, maybe I want to be..deranged. Maybe It's because the hurt and the feeling of me being so different is all I know. Maybe It's because it seems like it's the only thing I'm good for, my purpose. It almost feels.. right. Like it's my way of forever saying sorry for existing at all

[riverw-poetry]

So many feel envy over my brain, that I can feel so little emotion. But they dont know, they don't understand. That my absence of feeling has me yearning for it in a way. I've tried to make myself feel something, anything. Pain, fear, rage, hurt, anything. As long as I'm not constantly stuck with that big, dark, empty nothing

[riverw-poetry]

No one understands, that in some ways, I'm already dead. I dont feel what others feel, nothing is deep. I just..exist. Like a walking, talking corpse, that is stuck with just mimicking the act of being alive

[riverw-poetry]

"You're doing much better now"

I'm not. I'm going mad, I've lost my spark. I bleed in silence, when I'm alone I'm scattered. I have no idea how to make any of this pain and emptiness hurt less or serve some kind of purpose. Around others I bare a mask, and lie better than I thought I ever could. Cause too many saw me broken that day, and it doesn't matter that I constantly come back to the thought of ending it all again, because talking about it doesn't help, no one who hears it believes me anyway, Because to them, I'm doing so much better now

[riverw-poetry]

I've realized that now after my suicide attempt, something changed. Not in a life changing, I know what to do with my life kind of way, but in a..I am no longer waiting to be happy, I'm not really dreaming of the future, I'm just..living in the moment, unafraid of getting hurt, I'm just waiting for it all to end

[riverw-poetry]

I don't know how often I've been driving around, thinking about running it off the road in high speed. Maybe now and then, maybe every time I had over an hour drive, maybe a few times a week. Ever since I started driving, that thought has been there. But I never did it, because I didn't want to destroy the car my grandfather gave me. And that pretty much sums up my priorities, doesn't it?

[riverw-poetry]

Truth is, I haven't dodged a single bullet in my life. Some I didn't see coming, some I let hit me. Some bullets stuck to my body, while others shot right through me, creating holes in me. I've been shot so many times that I'm not sure how much is left at all, but I guess some of it is my fault, cause I never tried to dodge the bullet. I just let it hit me, I let them all shoot me, kill me and get away with it.

[riverw-poetry]

Why didn't I say something? Why didn't talk to you about what he did? Why didn't I tell you what you did when I was a kid, how you made me feel?

Because I tried once, and nothing happened. Because I had no idea back then that the way I was raised would turn into trauma. Because I thought I wasn't good enough for your love or attention. Because of the threats of things getting worse if I said something, that got me scared. Because I was a fucking kid, and it wasn't my responsibility to ask for help, it was the adults around me who was responsible for not seeing that my actions and behavior was my scream for help.

[riverw-poetry]

I'm not an angry person, not originally.

If you cared enough, you would see the hurt behind my angry eyes.

[riverw-poetry]

What goes through my mind?

I'm trying to figure out why I should fight for a life I don't even know what to do with, a life I'm not even sure if I want

[riverw-poetry]

Tell me you know what you did.

I don't need to hear that you're sorry,

I don't want the apology you don't mean,

I just want your acknowledgement.

I want you to take accountability for it.

I want you to look into my eyes, Mom, and tell me you know how you failed me to protect others.

I don't need an apology.

Don't tell me you're sorry, and don't keep telling me it wasn't like I remember it, I'm tired of hearing words that you don't mean and words that aren't true.

Just look at me and tell me that you know what you've done, and that you didn't care.

Tell me that you knew what you were doing, and what my father was doing to me. Tell me how you knew how it would effect me, but just didn't care, and just did it anyway.

[riverw-poetry]

I don't like touching other peoples skin.

It's too close, It's too much.

I feel their soul, I feel their aura.

Their emotions, their intentions.

It's too close, It's too much.

I've got enough with my own

[riverw-poetry]

I am so used to this experience, to being this alone. I am too used to being the light bringer to everyones darkness, while I am completely alone in my own without any light. I am to experienced in this reality of being alone, of being so misunderstood but also ignored. I am too used to it. I am so used to it that everytime someone do try to help, I am not sure what to do or how to react. I want that the ones that I helped, would do the same for me, but..they don't. Instead, strangers help sometimes, and I am too used to this empty hole in my chest, to let them do it completely. Because I am still waiting for pieces of me that was taken from me by the ones that broke me, even though I know, that I will probably never have them back

[riverw-poetry]

[riverw-poetry]

I feel so empty, so cold. I know that I crave touch, but I also know that even the slightest hug right now could make the barrier brake. If I feel that someone truly want me, just for a second, I know I will burst. Years of pain flooding out all at once. I do not know in what way, but my heart aches, but since I cannot cry, what will happen?

But then again, is there someone that would want to touch me into feeling that loved anyway?