Help me
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Can you save me?Can you pull me from my pit?From my dark and endless jail?Can you tear down my walls of anguish?Burn my fears or failure?Can you help me?Can you teach me how to feel real again?
I’ve fallen apart,
A million pieces in the floor.
Most of them are missing,
I can’t find them any more.
My pieces have been scattered,
I’ve been crying out for aid,
But I’m rewarded with silence,
I’m screaming out for help,
Only for my pleas to fall
On the ears of a deaf deity.
Someone save me from this pain,
It keeps me trapped inside my brain.
Someone save me from this hurt,
I’m not even worth a pot of dirt.
Speaking is my burden Speaking is my sinNo matter if i wish to helpMy words shall never winMaybe if i speak one lessAnd choose not to say a speechThen maybe they’ll rejoiceAnd happiness they’ll preach
Can't anyone see me?
See this fake smile on my face?
See these tears that I hold back?
Can't you see the pain that I'm in?
You all see this wall of protection that I have put up,
Someone told me it's not the end,
Into the darkness I descend.
Falling through empty promises
That are to never to come true,
Tied to a noose made by the view of the world
As I dangle wordless and helpless.
Do you see me?
Do you feel me?
Can you feel the pain, the ache inside of me?
'Cause I'm alone fearful to hope.
Terrified I'll drown and no one will be home.
So I just wander inside my head,
They say it isn't hard to get well.
That it gets better with time.
It isn't that simple.
They say it is a matter of will,
A matter of desire,
But it's not true.
I'm done with all of this.
The shit I go through daily.
The unexplained silence,
As bad as the fucking words I hear.
The judge mental glance a sharp dagger,
That had stabbed me in the back forever.
Seconds pass me by, I'm slowly turning as if to flee. Feeling broken, trodden down, this isn't really me. I can't decide which path to take with all these voices speaking out. This opaque vision stifles my pleading shout.
You need to know how this is all going to go down.
How the story ends.
Because I… well, I don’t.
I don’t have a clue
And it scares me to no end.
This poem is a comparison of my biological father, and My “Step-Dad”. The contrast of the two “fathers” has shaped me into the person that I am.
Daddy’s Little Girl?
