miss_chaniel

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this sickness of hurt

CATEGORY

life

I feel awful
I think im coming down with
Self-hate
Not from my appearance
But from my actions
No one believes I can't beat this sickness
High dose of synthetic Compliments
my tears blend in with my scar marks
It is awful to avoid mirrors and to always look down
To hid from who I would see
To see that people see my reflection that i would never change
Because of mistakes I've made
It hurts I believe Im getting better
They feel im getting sicker and sicker
Not trusting me not believing in me
I remain isolated from the world
No matter how cured I feel
There's always a disease eating me

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COMMENTS


		Charles2 says: looking into the mirror of your soul. the one you think you see, when you don't quite feel the beautiful person that you always were in life and always meant to be, Is looking at you in disbelief. we always are a part of our mistakes. but the sorrow at the place where were once were ...is never in the same place. look away from the mirrors on the ground. its hard enough to escape the prison of the mind without constant reminders of the times when our minds were so inclined to choose the path when the consciousness we carry when we know, was going blind. poems by this commentor Deep Blue hate'n fever
		Charles2 says: dear soul. be patient, this will pass. and when you pick up whats important, you may find what you left behind, wasn't worth it anyway. and if there was something important that you lost. forgive yourself. say honest prayers and mourn for what was lost. pay the cost to get back in good graces with yourself, if not for who or what you left behind, so you can make your peace and let life continue on. poems by this commentor Talisman belly+dancer... Love beings, kiss...
		Charles2 says: you still are young. imagine yourself, much older. perhaps even on the other side, looking back at it all. and how you might have reversed your steps, if you were so motivated and secure in who you are in being empowered to change whatever it was you did or did not do. come back to now and start living it again, this turn of the tables to win yourself back from your decline. it too will pass in time poems by this commentor freedom... Loving... blue chips