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It's Hard To...

An Original Poem

It’s hard to explain how I feel when I can’t comprehend my feelings. It’s hard to tell you that I need help when I don’t even know what I need help with. It’s hard for me to reach out and ask for your help when I can’t even speak because my mind is so cloudy. It’s hard to be strong when the voices say I’m weak. It’s hard to fight when I just want to give up. It’s hard to eat when I’m so fat. It’s hard to breath when my line wants to go flat. It’s hard to carry on when the hope is gone and my light goes dark. I need a spark, something to live for, to help me see, something that’s shining, glowing, for me. I just need someone, someone who cares, someone who does more than just say that they’re there. It’s hard to cry when you have no tears. It’s hard to jump when you have so many fears. My mind is cloudy and my thoughts are dark, I just need one little spark. A hope, something to look forwards to. It’s hard to feel when you’re just so numb. It’s hard to think when you’re always called dumb. It’s hard to believe in yourself when no one else does. It’s hard to fight when no one wants you in their life. I have been fighting for so long. I don’t even know what I’m fighting for. Is it me? Is it you? Is it her? Is it him? Who am I fighting for? Everyone has always told me I should just give up. I’m starting to believe them. It’s hard to fight, when you see no light. It’s hard to see, when you are blinded by all the emotions. Sometimes, they slip, slip from my eyes, to the cold, hard floor. Now I know that I can’t fight anymore. I know that it’s all gonna end the same, I’m like a child, who’s playing a game. Someone will come along and tell me it’s okay. Someone will tell me then they’ll go away. When they see the true me, they’ll only run. No one thinks that I’m all that fun. Maybe it’s time for my life to be done. Everyone is tired of me and I don’t know if I can fight. Why can’t I find that little bit of light? If only my life had been taken in that wreck, on that winter's night. People say they care, I bet they don’t. People tell me I’m strong, if I’m so strong, why do I feel so weak? I wish I had the strength to fight. But wait, I see a small light. That’s what keeps me going when things get hard, that's what makes me fight, when I feel so weak. That small, tiny light. It’s not very big, and it’s not very bright. It keeps me thinking that maybe it’s alright. It’s hard to shake the fact that no one wants me around, but maybe, just like Evan, I will be found.

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