Upset Poem (For When I'm Upset)

Today I learned that voices hurt more than words

Today I learn that not only words and voices can hurt but lines on a paper too

Notes on a page, and anything of the sort

I can’t imagine why at this time

But they hurt

I get why notes, and lines on a page, and words can hurt

But why voices

A certain frequency of sound channeled into an ear

But what’s the point of a voice if you cannot hear it?

Blocked out on purpose

Or maybe not by choice

What’s the point of a lot things if you can’t hear or see them

What’s the point of life if you’re numb?

I ask myself everyday

What’s the point of a day if the sun never shined?

What’s the point of an ocean with no drinkable water?

What’s the point of space when most of its useless?

What’s the point?

About two years ago I started wondering about life

And the what ifs

And the why am I here?

The what’s the point?

And the I hate life

That maybe life wasn’t worth my effort

Or maybe life just didn’t want my effort

To this day I think about those questions and those statements once a day

I don’t know why I do

Because most of my days have been just great

But sometimes my life just isn’t enough

I’m just not enough

And now I wonder if its

The words

The voices

The lines that make up a note

I wonder

If all this stuff had never happened would I be asking myself?

The what ifs and why’s and telling myself I hate the way I live

I think about this for a long time

I sit here writing this as a spur of the moment poem

Or what I call an

Upset poem

I don’t write these everyday

But I don’t have just one or two

I have so may

Hiding away under my bed just waiting

To stab me in the back

Like almost everyone has

And why can’t lines on a paper just do the same

I think of this and believe that words on a paper can backstab you too

But still I sit here and write

Time after time

Backstab after backstab

Question after question

People have the ability to be nasty

And greedy

And just full of self-assurance

But they also have the ability to be more than that

Rise above those deadly sins

And be sweet and caring and more things that I can’t put into words

Things that no one can put into words

Not just me

I noticed the phenomenon of words lately

Ones that sound pretty

And ones that sound like jagged pieces of glass

Slut

Skank

Bitch

Ugly

Stupid

All of them have been used in the past week

To hurt me

To scratch me

To stab me

I used to think that I love you

Was an important phrase

That you had to wait to here it

That you waited to say it

But really

After you get into the habit of saying it

It’s never the same as the first time

I used to think you’re a skank

Was a phrase that I would never hear

Pointed in my general direction  

I used to think that You’re a slut

Was a phrase that only girls with boobs falling out of their shirt had thrown at them

But no

It was the way you talked

 You walked

Who you hung out with

The gender you talked with

And the sudden realization of jealousy

Words, lines, and voices aren’t all that hurts

Everything hurts

Laughing and staring

Pointing and whispering

Computer screens

Songs

ALL OF IT

Everything

Hurts.