Nobody Knows Anything

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    Nobody Knows Anything

    I am hurting inside
    There is a terrible, horrible thing, tearing at me.
    It hurts and I don't know what to do.
    My whole body is filled with this cruel pain...
    Sometimes it is only my heart.
    Something is different now.
    I am different.
    I am slowly becoming someone else...
    Someone that I don't recognize.
    I am so sad.
    I am so angry at so many things.
    Sometimes I am in so much pain,
    I wonder if people can see it vibrating off of my skin...
    But nobody sees....nobody knows anything...
    I do not think anybody cares.
    I don't understand.
    I am afraid.
    I am good at hiding my fear.
    I want to be alone, but I am afraid of being lonely.
    I want the dark, but I am afraid of the dark.
    I am stuck, kept prisoner,
    Behind this dark mountain of black emotions
    And I cannot escape.
    I want the rain, but it snows
    And I hate the snow.
    The rain disguises my fear
    And I am free for awhile...
    At times, I suddenly find myself
    drowning in my sorrow, cringing in my pain,
    cowering in my fear, and swimming in the
    dark waters of my tears.
    An ocean of black terror enfolds me
    in its embrace often, but
    Nobody sees...nobody knows anything...
    I am trying very hard...
    I try to keep my pain buried deep inside
    I know that I am not fair to tell
    people about it, to be a burden to anyone but myself.
    The world would be a better place without me
    I make everything difficult.
    I help no one and nothing.
    The boy that I have, somehow, fallen in love with,
    would be better without me.
    I believe I only cause him pain...
    I am only a problem to him.
    I am harsh and cold and bleak.
    The thoughts in my head are unbearable.
    They eat at me, chewing away my carefully built and arranged barricades,
    and building new, different ones.
    This place that I live in...it is called my suffocation palace.
    It smothers all signs of life and it strips
    away happiness, leaving only anger and fear...
    And depression.
    I am alone in this world...
    And the world is alone with me.


    Emily Wallace Feb 21 2009

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    Poetry is not a turning loose of emotion, but an escape from emotion.

    T. S. Eliot (1888-1965) American-English poet and playwright.

    MouseGirl555’s Poems (12)

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