I've written a lot of poems that no one will read, I've posted a lot of poems of pain that were ignored by many, for it wasn't a fairy tale in wonderland or gimmicks but it was real to me and them

The unwanted.

Yes, love is real but what about us the ones who were shown pain instead, we who walked alone in the dark for so long that it became our comfort zone and the only thing we could hang on to but you will never understand, only us

The unwanted.

What about our screams that echo off the walls in many, that all turned away from, what about the girls and boys, men and women who cut their wrists every time they have been pushed aside and told their voice wasn't important and will never be heard but you claimed you never saw or heard us

The unwanted.

Anxiety, becoming your punching bag so the words of many don't open old scars, only let them bleed and that voice in our heads that tells us that we are hanging on by a thread and then depression gets the best of us, conjuring up all our nightmares and drowning out all hopes of happiness, that's the feeling of us

The unwanted.

Do you know how it feels to realize you never had a good childhood, neither as a teenager and going into adulthood and it's the same, do you know that type of pain, wanting so badly to be normal that you pretend and you got so good at it that you begin to hate yourself but only we know

The unwanted.

We are everywhere, smiling but we are jokers, misleading everyone into thinking we are happy because, at the end of the day, all of you don't care that we dug out of our graves, we got more depressed until we fade and what's left of us is our pain but you will never know or care for us

The unwanted.




© painismeandmypoem