Trouble

Location

Without sound, my heavyhearted eyes admire this prickling, secluded path of uneven, razor-bladed dead grass.

Frequently flicking my busy hands to the insects flying around.

Doesn’t bother me that my butts aching on the ground.

I am of no sound.

 

There may be this secretive frown on me.

12 hours ago, he made me want to drown.

Being pushed and bullied into abandonment and feeling incredibly wrong.

I never want to return home.

That home isn’t even mind.

It’s uncomfortable.

It pisses me off.

No one wants to understand and love.

No one was taught and loved.

No one recognizes love and recognized when there is an absence of love.

 

Dear God, don’t place me in another enemies footsteps.

They’ve ended long before I even started.

I spent so much time trying what not to be like instead of what to be like.

Too many people and books tell me not to stress.

But how can you stop stressing when the problem is forever going to be there?

 

Well, at least that’s what it looks like.

Trouble, trouble, trouble.

 
This poem is about: 
Me

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