Misunderstood
I watched as the ground beneath my feet crumbled. My net of protection was destroyed with the stroke of a pen. All that was left were the others. The others that cared but inspired great anxiety and dread in me. I was not made for this world. Decisions made to take away my only sense of peace stabbed me in an attempt to solve something that was not understood. False phrases of hope filled my ears as others tried to console me as if they truly believed they could revive me from my winter death. Time does not heal all wounds. Things don’t always get better. Joy, comfort, and peace are not guaranteed no matter how much time passes. Sometimes time deepens wounds, making healing next to impossible. I try to breathe as the pain continues to slice my insides erratically. So I just sit and wait as I continue to be misunderstood.
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Read her second poem, Alone, here.
Jada is a 21 year old introverted internal-imaginary-world
enthusiast who enjoys listening to music, thinking excessively, poetry,
Naruto: Shippuden, Bleach (the anime), and not being around people.