Hurtful People

Hard to let go,
Of those who hurt you,
Cause you indescribable pain.
Such a sadistic game.

A feeling of sadness, trumping all.
The pain,
Coming, hitting in endless waves.
Such evil intent,
Malicious smile.
Hurtful lies.
Hateful eyes.

A pain.
To forget and leave,
To eradicate from one’s mind.
Even their pain caused…
I’m used to it…
I can cope with it…
But I shouldn’t.

Off you go and take your hate,
Take all you are,
Down to the depths of Hades.
Forever torment,
A taste of my mind.
Like you never saw,
Or just ignored.
But always caused.
And caused again some more.

Funny how some,
Gain a smile from others’ torment.
Hurtful people,
It reminds them they’re not alone.
They have strength.
They make a difference.

In crushing the windpipe of another.
Maybe there was no intention.
But it was willing,
An unintended consequence of intended actions.

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Realisation I Should Have Seen

A realisation I should have seen before. Of caring for someone who totally doesn’t.

Many times chatting, I could count the number of times they asked how I was, or about my day on my hand over meeting everyday for 2-3 months. I wondered this myself, but lied to convince myself of a person being kind or busy. The truth they lacking any care.

Also to a birthday a year ago, lots of accusations, hurtful words for many other friends, again, lacking understanding of other people’s agency, their ability to ‘live’ for their own. Another sign.

I remember a long time ago, when we first met, I did see some kindness for other humans, something I held on to, and convinced myself I continued to see, even when it’s been long dead.

The only time recently, that I was asked about, was with the little bird, and even that was ‘I hope she’s okay’, and saying it may not make it (I’m not naieve that I didn’t realise).

Throughout there was quite a lot of criticism and playing people off one another. The latter just realising this second thinking. Just stunned, the memories flooding back, all, totally manipulated, abusive? tricked and used.

My fault, the total lie. Believing someone’s lie, of kindness being in a person when it’s totally absent. So much that, I can’t remember a moment of true kindness from them. One where there wasn’t their own agenda, their own gain.

Pulling me back, when you were lonely and needed a friend, one I always tried to be kind. Until you were better, and my use ‘expended’.

Pulling me back, knowing the pain it caused me, knowing I couldn’t. In your mind. Only 2 things. My use and if you had need for me. Otherwise all others were regardless.

____________________________________________

I am glad this happened. The sole reason, to realise, that there are bad people out there, who shouldn’t be trusted, everything touched turned rotten. Someone who uses every moment for their own gain, not even thinking of anyone else?

At least I know, can escape and focus on people who care about others.
People who care for others will receive care the same. Those who don’t will only ever end up broken and hurt, because they do the same.

The only thing I’m sad about, well two things. My friends were right all along and I didn’t take their word, I fell into this mistake right again. The second, still confuses me, how I managed to lie, a kind person into existence when there was none. How did I see? Kindness when there were only lies?

At least I’m out. Never to look back.

Will Not Be Missed

I will not miss the harsh words,
Hateful remarks
Ridiculing and lack of care.

The hurtful, will not be missed.
They thrive on others’ manipulate and break,
On and on along a warpath.

Do not miss,
The hurtful,
For they will receive what they give out.
A hope for their payment for their hurtfulness.

They will not be missed.
Those who crush others for pleasure.
Those who.
String others along.
Who.
Use, hurt, abuse, and manipulate.

It is fine,
It is simple,
Time heals all wounds,
Time sees that wounds inflicted are wounds also received.

Time. The true enforcer.
And the survivors,
Just need to remember,
The pain, will not be missed.

Tired of the Pain

Tired of the pain,
What is brought back and brought back again.
Harmful demons,
Trying to put me back.

I’m determined,
To move forward,
Defiant,
Unrelenting for my strength and growth.
To grow stronger out of the pain.

Sick of being in pain.
Sick of the hurtful feeling.

I will not let my demons,
Drag me down.
I will move on,
I will move past.

I’m tired of the pain.

And on I will move past.

Hurting Questions

As I sit thinking.
Grand piano playing,
Mind thinking and whirring.

Pondering and thinking,
Through these hurtful questions.
Wonderings.
Overthinkings,
But trying to stay afloat,
But it grasps at my mind.
A question.

One hurting,
One unknown,
One unsure.
A question,
Shrouded in uncertainty,
Faking hope.

Trying to carry on.
As I sit here thinking.
Sit here hoping.
Sit here trying not to think.

Thinking through these hurtful questions.

Hate that I Love You, But I Do.

The dichotomous feelings,
I hate that I love you,
Always caring about you,
Always thinking,
Wanting to help,
Be kind, be nice.
To show you how beautiful you are.
But I do. I care.

Why do I hate this so?
The pain of seeing you hurt,
The pain of slipping away.
The pain of the slight word,
Or the hurtful comment.
Enough to crush me,
Yet I continue on.

I cannot explain,
I care, but I hate it, but love it too.
I would do anything I can.
Knowing I may learn to regret this.
But hoping I won’t.

I care,
And hope to help.


Poem I’m writing, after the time I came up with the title, (9.30pm 28/11/17 – when I came up with the title and ‘felt’ the poem). I date it to when it was written completely. While writing later is for convenience as I may not have time in a busy day of work.

Wrote, thinking of someone I truly care about, where I cannot explain. But I hate that I do because it hurts, it may hurt them. But don’t, because of the feeling, the care the warmth. My only answer? Not to think about it, to push away the pain, for another time.

I again, I am okay now, feeling better than when I came up with the title. I really am in a great mood, but just overthink far too much unfortunately. It’s okay and I am really good! I wrote the title, and didn’t want to leave it unfinished.

Idea 9.30pm, 28/11/17

Note to self: Most poems are published when written (and title made up). The few tonight are an exception I had made the names of the poems, while feeling them. Now I only need to write the rest and publish:

Memory of a Time
Reluctant Tear
Hate that I Love You, But I do.
To Bear the Rough

How To Break From – Part 1: The Break

The break.
To turn the mind against itself,
To make constant pain for itself.
To break oneself again, and again.
Any feeling to be broken down and apart.

To story of breaking from.

To see them.
The mind fills with pain.
The hands shake uncontrollably,
With heart beating fast,
Almost bursting out your chest.
Having to turn away and run.
The mind plagued for a time after.
The memory,
You apply the pain to yourself.
Until it’s what you’re used to.

Living in pain.
Until it’s all you know.
A daily torment of the mind.
Eventually, it becomes you.
The ever-pain.
Going through life like a ghost.
Wanting to move on.

All the pain.
From your own hand,
Your own making.
To break from.
Allow a movement away.

Turning a good memory, toxic,
A kindness, harsh,
The fun, a form of torment.
An architect of my mind,
Turning it all against me.
Left alone, a demon in the dark.
Clawing out,
Clawing in.

Until the feeling stops.
Not only one,
All.

 


For my friend on Moodtrack. Who is looking for a way to get past, looking for a way to break from.

This is how I did.

It works, but it takes its toll.

It’s a method, I wouldn’t recommend to anyone, hence I haven’t mentioned it to you if you’re reading this.

Truthfully, it’s like death.
To escape death.
A death of the mind, but continuation of the body.
Feeling an empty vessel.
Devoid of all emotions.
Left a wasteland,
As I had torched my mind.
Of the memory,
Of it all.

It’s not all totally depressing. There’s a second part, first is the wrecking, tearing yourself apart from within the mind. Turning everything sour and dark. But after, in my experience, a rarity, but happens by chance. If you leave a path for someone else to walk. To take a peak, to reach in and, give you light. So you can climb out yourself.

Written 30/Oct/2017 1:30pm UTC – Unsure when I’ll publish this.

Confliction

Confliction, confusion.

The world made bright.

Fearful of the end,

Broken, yet simultaneously saved.

Mixture of feeling, confused.
Happy and also sad,
Missing something.
My ability to comprehend.

My ecstatic excitement filled,
While also fearful worry lingers,

My bipolar shifts from happiness, to worry, to sadness, to happiness.
All offering painful confusion.

Shaken to the core,
Worried yet also happy.

Sad to the confliction of my predicament.
Sad to my required bipolar world.

The place that confines me.

The feelings that control, use, abuse and break me.

Tearing my mind apart.

The confliction;
I am happy.
I am sad.
I am worried.
I am excited, enthusiastic, embarrassed and apprehensive.

A plethora of feeling
Opposites, simultanously felt.
My feelings wrapping themselves around me,
Holding me tightly,
Constricting,

Ripping me apart.

Leaving me confused.

Leaving me with conflict.

Emotions. A roller-coaster.
An ever-moving shift.
Hurtful, yet happy.
Sad, yet also happy.

The feelings I cannot explain,
The emotions I cannot control.

My life controlled without my understanding.

The confliction, my emotions, thoughts and feelings.

I am happy.
I am sad.
I am in conflict.
I am… Me.

Restless Anxiety

Restless anxiety, over the path to taken,
The direction to be found,
The direction to make,

The anxiety surrounding it,

A restlessness,
Unsatisfied to wait,
The urge to do,
One task found, the anxiety continues
The task put down, for another.
Only for the continued anxiety to ensue,
To another change.

The anxiety,
Stopping me from rest,
From reading,
From enjoying the sunlight.

Movement to and fro,
An emptiness of loss,
Loss of path.
Loss of knowing.

Dissatisfaction from the end.

An unsure life that I leave,
The foundation pulled from under me,
Thrown into the dark ocean of uncertainty.

Hurt, left.

Empty and hurting.

Loss of meaning,

Apathy to everything.

An emptiness to consume all.

An emptiness to corrupt all.

Left. In the dark. With and through.

This restless anxiety.

Rather Not

Would rather not.

Rather not remember or know,

Trying to build a facade, to cope, to forget.

To erase from my mind the pain.

To get rid of the feeling, the memories.

To erase a pain, still so raw.

A pain ever-present,
Only merely tucked away,
Only merely hidden and put out of mind.
Only left,
A festering wound,
A corrupting influence.

Ripping into my mind,
Into my soul,
Hurting and pained.

The drops by my side.

The pain and the flinching.

Left out, in the open,

Hurting.

Dying in the open field.

Left. Lying, wounded. Dying.

I would rather not.

A world of keys, codes, my mind and torture.
Another day in the life of my mind.

Another day, waiting, for it to end.

To forget, so I can live.

To erase my mind,
To go on.

I would rather not.

Rather not remember.
Rather not be reminded.
Rather not be hurt.