Feelings through poetry

I silently suffer, every time someone hurts me,

’Cause I don’t wanna hurt them back,

So I suffer,

It’s destroying me from inside,

So I silently suffer,

I cry till my eyes are dry,

I say nothing.

Been ignored for months, still there for you,

I’m saying nothing.

Been bullied by a teacher, couldn’t do anything,

I’m saying nothing.

Being bullied by own class,

I silently suffered, not knowing it’s abuse,

Nobody did anything.

I’m feeling depressed, but I’m saying nothing.

Nobody knows, it’s better that way.

Curled up on a bed I lay, may I let these tears soak my cheeks?

But no tears came out., caught up on the past,

Been attached to only one person, wishing the friendship would last.

I rejected everyone else, to be with one person, who pushed me away.

Then I found myself lonely, having no one to talk to,

I began talking to everyone, no matter what they did, no matter how they treated me, just not to be alone anymore.

And yet, still feeling lonely, I talk to everyone I can, but it’s not getting better.

So I silently suffer, who would help anyway?

Does it even matter? Later it’s even worse I see,

But I’d rather not bother anyone with this.

I write for myself, write long dialogues with the voice in my head, telling me; it’s going to be okay., but the friendship is already dead.

Everyone either left me or stopped caring, so I’m just waiting till they all abandon me.

Worrying, another person stopped caring.

I don’t want to be alone,

Ever since I’ve grown, I’ve realized it’s just an illusion.

Nothing ever lasts.

We always become distant, with all of them,

There becomes an endless abyss, from what used to be you and me.

And when I stop feeling lonely, it soon starts again.

Listening to music, with it, you can be someone else,

Disappear to a whole new world,

Be someone else, be somewhere else.

You stop feeling so tense; you’re no longer dense,

Everything begins to make sense.

Drawing, with it, you can get detached, stop thinking about getting attached.

You’re not so tense; everything makes sense.

Your problems go away, hidden in your drawings.

Writing, you feel better,

Everything makes sense; you’re someone else, anyone you want to be., everything and anything.

It’s better when you write a letter, on the paper, becoming a whole new story, and realizing it’s all a glory.

Every time I tell myself, I should never get myself attached again, I only end up getting hurt,

And I can’t stop, only wanting company.

Company is not always there,

That’s fine. It’s alright.

I can’t get help now; everything is closed.

And I’m trapped here, wondering about the outside world there.