The Beginning of Self-Hatred

The sky was black and gloomy,

clouds drifting in and out of my line of sight from the window pane.

The rain would come soon, nothing for help me again.

When I looked into the mirror on this cold and miserable day,

I saw a cold and miserable sight

and longed for the days when I thought myself beautiful, thought myself kind.

The world shuttered and broke apart,

gasping for breath at the weight of my self-hatred,

the ribs in my body seemed to shatter into a million pieces

from the force of my heart turning to lead and dropping to my stomach.

Nothing made sense and on that cold and gloomy day

I became the sky and the sky became me, or so I thought.

When the sun rose up and the bird began to sing,

I was still an empty and broken thing full of empty and broken misconceptions

all about myself.

I wish in that moment I had not let those thoughts control me,

I had not let those fear close around my throat and hold me down for all the world to see.

But, here I am, years later and the gloom still lives within the confides of my skin.

I am stilll rotting from within.

A flower without petals,

a body soaked in acid and malnourished,

malnourished for any kind of love, any kind of care, any signal that I am worthy.

The sun shined that day, many years ago, and left the sadness of the sky

and all it's vast sorrows within me.

Oh, how it hurts.

This poem is about: 



Oh, how you're loved.

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