Why?

I beg this question upon you, 

Tie up my wrists 

Bind my heart 

Wrap it tenderly beneath your knife 

I assure you

It does not bleed

For bleeding is a sign of death,

Death does not come to those who suffer.

 

Emotions of a vast unknown,

Call it overreacting,

But this pain I feel

Is real

A bullet wound to the shoulder

Hurts less than betrayal. 

 

Don't cry to me, 

When you're holding a thumb 

In the middle of a highway,

Remember it was you 

who threw me away

I had no part in tearing down your pedestal.

 

Don't cry to me,

When you lose everything

That might have meant something,

You meant the world to me 

But you left,

Why is it that when I worked so hard to please you,

You gave up on me before 

I could give up on you?

  

This poem is about: 
My family

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