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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Poetry  |  House: Booksie Classic

Submitted: September 03, 2018

A A A | A A A

Submitted: September 03, 2018





not the kind you can explain

it’s the kind of hurt you can’t escape

from your brain

the kind of hurt that has you up until dawn

wailing until you feel as though your lungs will shatter like a window pane

hurt like a whirlwind of a hurricane

the kind that leaves you saying you’ll be back in five but lose track of time while trying to calm yourself down in a bathroom stall

then coming out and acting like you just felt sick, that’s all

not the kind of sick like a cold

but the kind of sick that makes you question your existence

the kind of hurt that makes you wonder what it is in life you’re missing

the kind of hurt with so many questioned left unanswered 

and memorizing every constellation in the night sky praying to something while you just keep asking “why”

the kind of hurt that no one sees because you hide behind a mask or a screen or red lipstick

“you look so good today” they say

when inside you feel as though

you are split

not even down the middle like a seam but ripped at every edge like an pair of old jeans

the kind of hurt when people think you are okay because your personality is vibrant like a warm sunny summer day

but then you go home and you fill your lungs with smoke

knowing that deep down you don’t know what else to do to cope

day by day the hurt will vary 

this kind of hurt isn’t something that can be explained 

but hurt

this hurt

has become far too heavy for me to carry


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