Why Women Have Walls


Bessemer City
United States

It is not just the I am not pretty enough for them, or the it is my fault. It is not only am I not pretty, but I'm fat and actually just plain ugly as well. It is the I can see why they left just look at my mess of a life. It is the well everyone else is so much better than me, I'm surprised they stayed this long anyway. It is the well I was holding them back, or the maybe they left because I'm not right in the head. It is the well I can't help that I'm not exactly right, that I can't help I'm not perfect. It is the constant tears months after your pain of them actually leaving is gone because you feel like you were the problem the entire time. It is the constant fear of compliments because you don't believe them. It is the fear of conversation because you aren't smart enough to make one person stay so why are you smart enough for a conversation? It is the fear of society telling you what's wrong with you, and telling you why they left even though they know nothing. It is the fear of judgment if you speak out against your ex, it makes you annoying and crude. When in reality you don't know what else to do because you are so seeped in fear you feel like you can't do anything else, besides Everyone else does it so why can't you? It is like no other conversations matter because it is always in the back of your head how imperfect you are and how much you wished you could be perfect. It is the fear of loving again, but yearning for its constant affection. You want that loving hug, and that warm kiss, but you're so scared it isn't real... just like the last one. You constantly doubt everything and overreact to many things because faking your happiness becomes a must for some. It is constantly feeling lonely like no one is there for you even if they are right beside you the whole time. It is the well they must have been right about me because no one else wants me either. It is the no one wants me for me they want me for my insecurities so that they can get what they want. It is the constant asking why, and the constant please make the pain stop. It is the longest healing process in the world it seems. Its walls building up layer by layer to protect yourself from hurting again... But one day those walls will come down and maybe just maybe you'll be lucky enough to never put them back up again.

This poem is about: 
Our world


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