I wonder at why I should feel
so much pain, the purest emotional
pain, knowing nothing is personal,
my emotions override, and seem
to insist that all of the people
treat me gently, stop these personal
bombs, intentional or not, treat
me gently, I plead, blind for tears
that I’ve learned I must control
but have never controlled, learning
that regardless of personal shame
flowing from these outer indicators
of the insanity of a hopeless being,
they will despise me for my weakness,
and I wonder why on some occasions
I find gentle people who treat others
kindly, but these do not stay in my
life, for god seems to laugh at me
when god treats me to all of the tough
ones as I sit here terminally beaten, gone.
This poem is cheesy but it is the truth.
I wonder at why I am so damned cheesy,
but I remember it all comes from this
broken human structure I’m bound by.
My eyes are tired. They hurt.