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Writer's pictureTeresa Irene

The Art of Being Invisible pt. 7

Updated: Nov 24, 2018

Please help me,

I don’t know what’s wrong.


My world has fallen out of place

Creeping in this petty pace

Everything is unbalanced and askew

I don’t know what to do


I’m crying in the corner

Screaming

Trying to shut myself up

~So I don’t bother anyone


I know you’re tired, but

I call you because I need you

Because I’m scared I might do something bad.

You finally pick up,

And you’re annoyed.

So I hang up


I do not wish to frighten you,

But there’s a cold deep in my soul

And I cannot help but wonder;

When was the last time I felt whole.

The absent sun and rainy skies have persisted day to day

Although I see some rays of hope,

I still have dues to pay.

My throne is made of broken glass,

Cutting those who dare come near.

And I myself can find no way to eliminate this fear.

The garden of my mind I wish to be made pure,

But thoughts that seed and grow there are dying friend,

And I fear that there’s no cure.


I do not care what they may say,

I’ll stay with you day by day.

I once was happy I can be again,

You make me feel so free my friend.


To those who feel like there’s no hope

To those who think their life’s a joke.

I need to tell you something true,

Something that affects both me and you.

You matter. It’s as simple as that.

You matter and that’s a fact.

I know you're hurting like never before,

I know you just don’t see the point anymore.

But take a deep breath,

And think about your death.

What would it mean? What would it do?

In terms of everyone else but you.

I know it may seem impossible, to live another day,

But imagine what you’ll miss if you choose not to stay.


Although the poets spoke of pain,

And all their words seemed to cry out a name,

Although nothing is as perfect as it seems,

You cannot hide their ordeal behind a screen.

Their hurt is not an invitation,

For you to present your salvation.

You cannot turn their suffering into art,

You cannot heal their broken heart.

Their misery is not a table

For you to place your words in an attempt to make them stable.

People are not poetry, they are more than just words

All they want in life is to be heard.

So put away your paper and pen,

Just sit with them.

Listen to their tale,

Don’t try to romanticize it: you will fail.

These people have a story to tell,

Listen for just a moment and you will learn how they fell.


I’m sorry if I’m being cold.

That’s not really who I am.

It’s just I’ve felt like ice for so long,

I’ve forgotten what it’s like to be warm.


Hard

It’s hard to know you love me,

When the words you say are so harsh.

It’s hard to believe you miss me,

When the times you make an effort are rare.

It’s hard to understand that you care for me

When you can’t even notice how I need you.

It’s hard to say you want to be with me

When it seems like you’d rather do anything else.

It’s hard to think you’ll never leave me,

When you’re barely even here.


©2018


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