I’m sorry if this poem is boring

I’m sorry if it takes to long to read 

I’m sorry for talking too much 

I’m sorry for apologizing too much, but you see when you are raised to believe that your life is a mistake then you begin to feel the need to apologize for your mistake. When you are told time and time again that everything is your fault, you begin to believe everything is your fault. As I grew old I learned to turn my pain into sadness, my sadness into submission, and my submission into sorry. When I tell you I am sorry it is not just because I didn’t mean to run into you, it is because I regret my existence. I question my worth everyday and wonder I if it all even means something. I hear my thoughts flying through my head like a swarm of bees from one thought to another leaving a sting in my ears. My eyes dart around the room frantically like a rabbit running from a fox. Checking every exit sign, locating every door, concocting each worse case scenario and obsessing over the deep and heavy blanket of possibilities that weighs me down. I’m sorry I’m shaking, but my legs clank like the cogs of contraption far too old to be using while my hands shake like tuning forks stuck in a constant state of vibration. I clasp my hands together to stop the shaking, but the tuning forks produce no sound and the silence is piercing. The silence is so loud that it burns my ears and clouds my thoughts. I’m sorry I’m being so quiet. I’m sorry I never have anything interesting to say. The pit in my stomach grows to something I can no longer ignore as it fills with the words I never spoke and the jagged shards of my heart. My chainmail skin is stronger now, but it only holds my pain. I’m sorry if I hurt you and I’m sorry you hurt me. I’m sorry that I’m sorry and I hope that you won’t be. But my happiness is hollow like a decomposing tree and when the night is over I’m sorry that I’m me.