I finally know what I am.
A curse. A burden,
Wasting space in this sad
Excuse for an existence.
A waste of money.
A waste of food.
A waste of clothes.
A waste of life.
I hurt everyone I meet,
Everyone I get close to.
No one is spared.
I really can't take this anymore.
Each day monotonous in its pain.
Its hurt, its anger.
How can I live like this?
What have I done wrong
To deserve this sort of life?
When I'm finally getting back
On track, something happens
And I'm back at square one.
I can't go through it all again.
Should I do it now?
I can't decide, but
I'll decide soon.
Comments on this poem/writing:
|Raimee (184.108.40.206) -- Monday, March 7 2005, 07:10 pm|
You dare decide.
|LBK (220.127.116.11) -- Saturday, March 12 2005, 12:45 am|
First paragraph, total lie..."I hurt everyone I meet, Everyone I get close to. No one is spared."...It hurts me when you are not there...
|Holly (18.104.22.168) -- Monday, April 4 2005, 02:10 pm|
I agree, you don't hurt me. ;] But, when you're depressed, you hold the belief you hurt everyone. I feel the way of this poem sometimes, like you've messed up the life you've been given, and you weren't worth the effort.
|Your Friend (22.214.171.124) -- Friday, April 8 2005, 06:39 pm|
You better not decide yes. I love you and you have never hurt me only protected me.
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Copyright©2017-1999 by Rebecca R. Hammack
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