When They Ask Who Hurt You And The Answer Is, 'Me'
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Cataloged in Psychology / Poems About Depression

When They Ask Who Hurt You And The Answer Is, ‘Me’

Someone once asked me

Bright eyes full of concern

“Who hurt you?”

I only wish I could have told them, that would be the kind of pain I long for

I have dealt in the currency of broken hearts ever since I realized I had one

That is the pain I know how to break with, how to mourn, how to survive

The one I cannot escape is the hurt I unleash on myself

In the quietest hours of the night, the anger, the shame, the hatred that has no end

It’s the screaming that I can’t quite get to quieten down

The cuts that leave no visible marks

It’s the harsh eyes that find nothing worth looking at

It’s an ocean of insecurities that I willingly deep dive into

A part at me forever at war with the rest

It’s the endless wondering and wishing I could be better

Who hurt me?

Oh I did, and I don’t know how to stop. TC mark

Image Credit: Dawid Zawila

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