Why Is It Me?

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It’s a sad realization,

when the people you love...

The people you hold close and dear to your heart,

don’t have your back.

 

When they take back the support

they promised to give you

when you were small,

and helpless.

 

Then you became independent and strong,

only to fall once more, and again, and again

they decide that their arms were tired from catching you.

 

That they were done with lifting you up,

that you are now on your own,

and on the ground you stay.

 

Wishing and hoping they’d come back,

that they would apologize and understand their mistake...

but instead they ask you 'why do you have to be like this?'

'Why do you have to be different?'

'Why do you have to be weak, and tormented, and insane?'

 

'Why is it you that has a mind that won’t stop thinking?'

or wrists that won’t stop bleeding,

a mouth that won’t stop screaming.

 

Even though the sound won’t leave your throat,

you still feel it choking inside your chest

and you can’t breath

Why is it me?

Why is it me?

Why is it me?

 

And we don’t know.

We don’t know why it has to be us

to be the fallen,

the broken down, and beaten,

 

why does it have to be us that loves differently than others,

why does it have to be us that falls too hard and too fast because we never knew, what it was like before then to feel loved and cared about so deeply,

 

So we dive in and we take what we can without thinking,

and we use and abuse this feeling never felt and returned,

with the same intensity.

 

And we forget.

 

It’s never with the same intensity, and instead,

we are fooled into believing so.

We are not truly the ones taking,

using,

and abusing the others’ love.

 

It is them, in the end, abusing yours,

until they are satisfied, fulfilled,

and we are, again, left feeling ashamed, broken down, beaten

and we tell ourselves:

Never again.

Never again.

Never again.

 

But in the end, some of us fall back into that cycle,

some cycles worse than others,

some cycles leaving you hanging dry in the wind

from a tight knot you crafted yourself,

and then some leaving you wishing you could have done the same...



It’s a sad realization,

to be a monster disguised as a simple being,

not so simple after all,

 

When your mind keeps racing,

and the tears keep falling.

Your heart is pounding,

your head is aching.

 

You’re trying to scream but it’s just not loud enough.

You keep trying to scream and the words are stuck.

You keep trying to scream but it just won’t come out.

 

You try to scream and they shut you down,

and you wonder the same thing they ask you:

Why is it me?

Why is it me?

Why is it me?

 

Why do we have to live with this monster inside of us?

taking our happiness and spitting it back in our face,

absorbing our happiness and using it to make the darkness grow bigger.

 

This demon, this thing inside us can only be defeated for so long

by medication,

by therapy...

 

But in the end it’s still there and it uses your body like a puppet,

having you wonder:

Why is it me?

Why is it me?

Left to be this darkness’ play thing.

Poetry Terms Demonstrated: 

Comments

Randigus

I wrote this in a daze from an irritating fight with my mother about my sexuality. This is my #NoFilter poem because this is how I truly feel behind the smiles and grins. This is who a truly am.

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