I love myself enough for it to over shadow the love I initially thought I needed from others.
In those seconds, it dawned on me how unbelievablely easy it was for me to write about topics I had absolutely no idea of.
Now, that I’m learning to be aware of my emotions, writing has become such a foreign talent of mine.
Long story short, I can finally relate to what what I used to write about and now that I’m experiencing it, I find it difficult to write.
you’re not a bad person for the way you kill your sadness…
Each pill dissolving on your tongue, the way you wished your pain would.
But pain is not like people,
you can’t just talk it away,
And people aren’t simple,
you cannot force them to stay.
99 pills at once,
Like problems shoved down your throat.
Difficult to swallow.
Difficult to breathe.
life isn’t easy.
Death is a breeze.
your living pain is unbearable,
And you can’t wait to leave.
Coping, are your eyes,
Struggling to stay awake.
Starved is your heart,
Unable to eat joy.
Confused is your mind,
How could misery be so happy, when it always has you in mind.
No suicide note.
No one deserves to know how frozen their coldness left you.
How their ghostly words
that escaped their tongue
now haunt you-
Like you will now haunt them.
You’ve managed to stop the world from spinning.
Slowly floating away.
Never felt anything so great.
Embracing you body for the fight, maybe now, it too, will understand the scars you placed above every vain.
It too, will fully feel the pain you’ve been exposed to.
You hoping nothing goes wrong, because it’s way too right.
So light as a feather,
is this moment.
Unable to feel the ground.
You feel rest,
Drowning in peace.
As your troubled soul escapes from you
That no one is nearby to save you.
Happiness like this doesn’t last
It turns into pain of the past.
you clinch every single part of you.
With your last breath
I love how it gives you a break from certain pain
But others still find a way to creep up in your nightmares.
I consciously placed a sale tag on a non-discountable good.
The one timeless peice,
People would merely walk in and admire,
Was on sale.
But based on pure frustration,
I wanted it to go.
Those who walked in
To purely admire it,
Were in disbelief
Those who had never seen it before, knew it was a steal.
Commotion at the door.
All the way to the till
They, all of a sudden forgot I had value
For that moment
I was worth that 50% I had placed on me.
Shocked, that even those that knew me
Were willing to walk all over me.
I remembered who I was.
My true value
I placed me back to where I belonged
They weren’t happy
They might not even view me for a very long time.
But I’m happy.
I’m happy I got myself back
I then began to stitch myself together
and began to acknowledge my worth.
Every strand of hair
I realised why I don’t go flying off the shelves like those around me.
I was not made in a sweat shop.
Every part of me was hand crafted.
Features of my mother and father merged together on face.
Although they are no longer together.
I am both of them.
But in their bothness,
I am me.
A timeless peice.
Never willing to put myself on sale again.
“I have grown to understand that I’m difficult to love, not because I’m broken, but because I’m whole. I don’t give guys the luxury of loving me in parts. I love all of me whole heartedly, so it becomes difficult for a guy to squeeze through my insecurities to fill a void he might think I possess. I don’t get aroused by petty compliments.
See, some guys find joy in loving someone who’s broken so that they fix them, just to break them again.”
By Kamogelo Mopai
Extracted from my Validation piece which I’ll be posting later