nobody can love me.
i can’t even
love myself.
every morning
i close my eyes
and every night
i open them
because i am fighting
a losing battle
of counting crumbs
and swollen ankles,
aching knees.
i don’t even write
because i will hate
to read it
and be reminded
by me
that i will never be
good enough.
i pay my lovers
in sex
and my friends
in favors
and myself
i beat
to death
in front of
the mirror.
anyone who thinks
they can hurt me
does not know
of the voices
in my head.
i wish someone
would love the girl
i hate
and i wish that someone
was me.
About the Creator
Sara
Don’t look for love.
Be love.
Getting Serious About Comedy (Part I)
If I were asked to remark on my life and the childhood that paved some road leading me to this point, I would have to say something about all the funny people who surrounded me for the last 26,872 days (and counting). Somewhere along that road, I became a big fan of laughter and the comedy that spawns it – and, I mean not only my own laughter, but the laughter of others, some of which I have actually been responsible for inducing.
By John Oliver Smith6 days ago in Humor
Comments (1)
This was so freaking relatable! Awesome poem!