Made of stone.

by Run out of words   Jan 11, 2009


What's the point in living,
when living here is hell.
What's the point cutting,
if no one would care if i killed myself.

My world has slowly become blurry,
but its not because of the scars.
It's because these tears have become a permanent,
reminder of why I wish on these stars.

I'm trapped inside a place,
that's meant to be my home.
I'm meant to believe that these people love me,
when their hearts are made of stone.

Locking myself in a bathroom,
and crying all night long.
Skipping school because my tears make me sick,
to them that doesn't sound very wrong.

I am an evil child,
I know its true.
Because ever since I was born,
I brought bad luck to you.

But why didn't you leave me?
The way so many others have done.
It's not like you haven't made it clear,
you can't see past your son.

Living like this only reminds me,
how much happier I'd be alone.
I'd rather not be loved,
that be loved by hearts made of stone.

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Latest Comments

  • 10 years ago

    by Kurt

    Despair is such a slippery slope, no? It's strange though, to know that behind everything one can say to you, there is an alterior motive. However, believe me when I say this; You are a unique and gifted poet. You have an incredible ability to take that pain and turn the words into moving beauty. Your words can touch the hearts of those who aren't strong enough to stand on their own. Just know, there are people who are always willing to lend an ear, people who are willing to help as best they can. Great write, the poem provides emotion that the reader can tap into and experience. 5/5 Hands down.