Bully

Looking into the mirror, it seems as though it’s not my own reflection

Doesn’t look the way I feel yet I want to be hidden

Trying to throw my voice further than what it can

But all the same memories got me slowly thinking ahead

The most painful pain is the aching within my head

I’m not irritated

It’s just the fact I can’t escape it

They just stare at me while I hold the gun as if I’m to pull it

I turn to look at my hand that held the gun and wonder “What am I doing?”

More than heavy words thicken

But I can feel them

Strangely, it seems like I miss them

But who’s the real victim?

Can’t speak what’s on my mind because what’s between my thoughts and reality is distance

Got the gun held to my head

I feel like I’ll give the brain the bullet

They never token a step forward to help me, but who’s the real victim?

I fight for all I believe in and all I get are lies!

No more said in the poem because the poem is as empty as I