PoetrySad Poems


I’m afraid
Of opening up.
Because my mum did
And she was hurt.
20 years later,
The scar’s still fresh.

My sister opened up;
And she got hurt,
She’s still tending to her pain.
I know yeah,
I know that not everyone
Is out there to hurt.

But then, how do I know?
He isn’t planning my demise.
So, I’d rather
Sit around the flower;
And plan my hurt myself. I’d rather feed on the pain
I caused for myself
Than live in the kingdom
Of regrets,
Open ridicules,
And blacks framing.

Why not share?

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