I'm writing this poem to all the ones who left me alone in the cold with ache in my bones.
I'm writing to let you know all I've ever really had is myself, and I realize that now.
I hope you know you make it hurt to see my reflection, I've grown to hate the way I present due to constant rejection.
But this is my home and I have to accept that with or with out you, but due to you as well.
I'm trying to build up what you wore down, it doesn't seem fair that I have to do it all by myself.
All this is, is hurt.
I don't want this to be embellished metaphors and words anymore, it's simply just hurt.
I'm lonesome and fucked up, anxiety ridden and damaged.
But I hope you know I'm getting by anyways all alone, and it's all thanks to my home.
