A letter to myself

I used to have a letter I wrote to myself and when I was feeling low I’d seek it out and give it a read. I couldn’t find it but found some old poetry (not sure it counts as poetry?) stuffs – thought I’d share a few over the next few days. Starting with one from a few years back.

Why do I tear them out, do I think they don’t mean anything?

Like I can’t see anything. So now, can’t I feel anything?

It’s gone from my eyes, so my heart wont feel a thing. 

Whats healing without breathing? 

Sinking. Lying. I’m not sinking. 

When will I stop breathing.

The pain lifted with the last breath. 

She meant nothing in life, she’ll mean nothing in death. 

Taken in the womb, her life was already snatched.

Each day a torture till I take the last breath. 

Whats the point when you feel for no one? 

A body so darkened, no day for a sweet one. 

Destroying every heart I touch. Draining your life for the want of a love. 

How can I let you love me. When I dont fucking love me. 

And I’ll never fucking love me. Because he created a monster and there’s only fucking ugly. 

Whats a prison cell when I’m the one to live in hell. 

No longer scared, but no longer me. 

Healed but forever silenced. 

Never to break another like I broke myself. 

(As you can tell. I was really going through it and there are many of similar tones. I was worried they would be triggering but they’re not. There’s a journey through them to the person I am now and for that, I’m thankful)

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