Categories > Original > Poetry0 Reviews
I wrote this poem. yay.
We all have cried on some bad day.
For our former selves, or what we coulda been.
If only we hadn't made that first slip-up, that one mistake, that screwed our lives up.
We just sit and think. . . it coulda been better.
We'll just end up falling. . . falling down this forever deeper hole. . . this hole of self-hate and doubt.
Some take this hate and hide it. For no one to ever see again.
Some take it and turn mean and rude.
Some turn to violence, thinking they can do no better.
Some, they try and 'fix' whatever they believe the 'problem' is, and try to kill it at the source of their agony, hoping 'twill just go away.
The most of the time too late realied truth is that it won't and that leaves those people hurting worse wih nothing except more to hide.
This dissappointing fact just leads to more lies and more to hide.
This all snowballs down a hill of never-ending repitition.
Sometimes, the only thing that can help is the ear of a good friend. Sometimes that's all that a broken heart needs. Someone who listens and won't judge you. Someone you can trust.
If only more people would ask for help.
Would know how to.
Wouldn't be afraid to.
If only they knew that that's all they really need.
Some people realize this too late and all those quick fixes build up over time and become the building blocks for the walls for that good friend to have to tear down to be able to see the real you again.
Everyone has their flaws, and everyone has something they try and hide from the world.
Only few of these people are lucky enough to have a good friend that sees that they're hurting and help tear down those walls that have been built up over all those years. Only few are so lucky that their friends are willing to help them through their times of doubt and self-searching and wondering.
Give friends a chance.
They've stuck with you this long.