deepundergroundpoetry.com
Damaged
Anxiety is running around rampantly on the inside of the walls of my chest, and it is all because of you.
I don't like to take car rides anymore with you because of how angry you always are,
And dinners at home with you always taste like unspoken words and stomach acid.
I don't remember a day I have not been afraid of you.
I can feel the rage wafting off of your body in waves, and see the way how your knuckles turn an ashy white when you get angry, and then I am suddenly seven years old again learning how to learn to listen for the bitter anger dripping off of your words.
I am Nineteen now, and God, I am still so afraid of you; and I hate it. And I hate you for making me afraid.
Depression is strutting down the hallways of my heart, because there are nights and days like these where I wonder if I will ever make it out of this goddamn house,
If I will ever know what it feels like to not have to look over my shoulder and wonder if you are somewhere lurking in the shadows waiting to yell at me for another miniscule thing.
I fear that I will always be this broken winged creature, that I will spend the rest of my life hiding in the shadows in fear that you will be waiting for me in the light.
That I will always jump when I hear a door slam, or that my hands will always shake when I hear someone else yell.
You have broken me, you bastard, you.
And god, I am so afraid that I will always remain this way,
So broken, So Unfixable.
Damaged.
I don't like to take car rides anymore with you because of how angry you always are,
And dinners at home with you always taste like unspoken words and stomach acid.
I don't remember a day I have not been afraid of you.
I can feel the rage wafting off of your body in waves, and see the way how your knuckles turn an ashy white when you get angry, and then I am suddenly seven years old again learning how to learn to listen for the bitter anger dripping off of your words.
I am Nineteen now, and God, I am still so afraid of you; and I hate it. And I hate you for making me afraid.
Depression is strutting down the hallways of my heart, because there are nights and days like these where I wonder if I will ever make it out of this goddamn house,
If I will ever know what it feels like to not have to look over my shoulder and wonder if you are somewhere lurking in the shadows waiting to yell at me for another miniscule thing.
I fear that I will always be this broken winged creature, that I will spend the rest of my life hiding in the shadows in fear that you will be waiting for me in the light.
That I will always jump when I hear a door slam, or that my hands will always shake when I hear someone else yell.
You have broken me, you bastard, you.
And god, I am so afraid that I will always remain this way,
So broken, So Unfixable.
Damaged.
Published 13th Oct 2021
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13th Oct 2021 10:20am
A very intense write. I can feel the scared little child inside of you.
Hope you heal eventually.
I think your writing is getting better, though the feelings I get from it have always been extreme.
Hope you heal eventually.
I think your writing is getting better, though the feelings I get from it have always been extreme.
