What They Think - Poem by Faet Luate

No one suspects a thing.
I am just another color in black.
They do not know I am hurt,
They do not know I cry,
They do not know I am killing myself tonight.
What they do not know is crucial,
But no one knows a thing.
My wrists are bloody from cuts,
My mind is corroded from hate.
Every night, cold metal blades cut against my flesh.
My pale, white flesh.
They think I am reading.
They think I am just clumsy.
They think I just fell.
Reality is thick and foggy, with what people do not know.
‘It’s just a phase’ they say
‘She’ll grow out of it’ they told themselves.
They know NOTHING.
They think I am getting better.
They think I am improving.
But reality states the truth
And the truth is:
I am dead.
Hurt
I am tired of you.
I am tired of you hurting me.
I said I was sorry.
I said you were right.
I was so stupid,
But that does not mean you can hurt me.
You make me cry.
Why do you insist on making me cry?
Maybe you do not know.
But I keep making excuses for you.
Maybe I should stop.
But then, that might hurt you.
I do not want to hurt you.
But should I care?
You are an ocean away.
And you seem to like hurting me.

Poems by Faet Luate

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