No matter how many times I ask for help, I still can’t disregard the fact that I carry the weight of a billion wounds, and no one will ever be able to cover it and keep it all together.
If I were to afford billions of bandaids to hold the pain I carry, would it finally cover the wound that’s been bleeding for years?
I wanna scream for help, but no words are coming out. It feels like there are needles in my throat that keeps me away from asking for help. It’s hurting me, It hurts so much, but asking for help hurts more.
If I were to speak up about how I truly feel to someone, I knew I’d cry my soul out, and I’m afraid it’ll lead to nothing but embarrassment.
"Why am I doing this to myself?"
I’m afraid of speaking up about my feelings, because I know how it feels to be misheard, to be misunderstood, when all you’re trying to do is to voice out the hidden tears in the back of your throat.
I mean, I do appreciate everything they do in order to understand me, to hear me out, but I’ve accepted that I will never be “really” okay.
I learned to rather stay silent other than showing my sliced heart and broken mind to someone who’ll probably use those as a weapon against me.
When will the wounds finally stops bleeding? When will I finally be free from this poem written in blood?
Maybe our heart’s purpose is to pump out all the pain that no bandages can cover.
