Just a quick poem about a big problem I have. Kind of a way to jot out my problems. |
I’m sorry, The words a whisper, a wisp, A secret buried deep, A small little wish, Words engraved into my soul, Worn in from overuse, Naturally there, Each word hits and forms a bruise, Some may ask why in the beginning, But when it’s muttered profusely, They turn away in annoyance, And in sorrow, I turn as well to flee, I’ve learned that anything slightly different, Anything abnormal, unusual, Are a flaw and a weakness, A critique increased to be ever so brutal, I know that most, Would never be mad, At the way I truly am, But even with that fact I feel so sad, You give me something great, But in place of thank you, I say sorry, For the burden of my presence, The waste of space for my body, I know thank you is better than an apology, And sorry ends up not working when used too much, But I really feel terrible, Each feeling like a punch, People tell me that I don’t have to say sorry, Or thank you so often, But it’s a habit now since other people's talents and personalities are far better, And mine nonexistent and awful, So I thank and apologize, Hoping to communicate with you, The wonderful person you can be, The way you make me feel like I can be someone too, I’m am sorry, For my faults, my mistakes, For you having to do this, For you having to heal all my breaks. |