Love & Other Woes
Why does love have to hurt this bad?
Why do you have to fuck with my head?
You may blame me but please remember,
I only went where I was led.
Don't be alarmed,
when you find me tomorrow,
I gave way to the pain,
and you may call me insane,
but I'd rather die quickly,
than slowly of sorrow.
The damage has built up,
over so many years,
a little at a time,
a little joy, a lot of tears.
The small insults and snide remarks,
so often spat in my face,
eroded and degraded me,
until I was completely erased.
The most shallow slices can leave the deepest scars,
just barely scratching the surface,
be careful with these wounds, they don't seem like much,
but they are the ones that can really hurt us.
Leaving behind jagged little lines all over,
wrinkly and white as they shut,
you may think them harmless,
but have you heard of "Death by 1,000 Cuts" ?
The sharp edge of your words,
grind down deep,
cutting open memories,
better left to sleep.
And though the damage and the pain,
are ever rising and steep,
you won't ever see me flinch,
or utter a peep.
The cruelty in your eyes is astounding,
The venom in your voice leaves me staggered,
the pain and confusion from going back and forth,
has left me so weary and haggard.
Confessing my weaknesses isn't like me,
so I'm sure you must wonder why,
It's because I'd rather struggle with the truth,
Than have faith in and believe my own lies.
I'd rather be nothing,
than something I hate,
I can't stand who you've made me,
but I suppose that's just fate.
I'd rather rot away,
buried six feet down,
than to keep becoming that person,
Every time you come around.
I'd rather be a memory,
than what you've turned me into,
a woman you abused,
who then turns around and defends you.
I'd rather be gone entirely,
than to be this pathetic,
I'd rather just go on,
I know I've said it and said it.
My depression was a disease,
I hope you know you only fed it,
and this poem is my suicide note,
so I really hope you've read it.
~ Rachel G. Ezell