Unspoken

The thing is
That you ask me questions
I’m too scared to ask myself.
You make me revisit times
That lay hidden,
With good reason.
You take the bits that hurt
And you prod them,
And poke them,
Until the hurt makes me cry.
And I find myself wondering
Why?
Why would I choose to be here?
Why subject myself to this pain,
This torture,
When I know that if I hide I’ll feel okay.
Hiding behind a pile of books
And a to do list so long
That it leaves no time
To think,
To remember,
To feel.
You say that it’s unsustainable.
You say that it’s possible to feel differently
You say that there’s a future
Where I do not hate myself.
I want to believe you,
I really do.
But I’m not sure I can;
You have no magic wand
Only words
And ears,
Listening whilst I try to speak of times
I’d rather leave unspoken.
Perhaps
I deserve to stay broken.

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