something is wrong with me
i know it i feel it in the rot
under my ribs where all the good things die
because i killed them
i ruin everything i touch
and i keep touching
i beg for love then choke it
i make people leave then call myself lonely
my tears are rehearsed
my pain is selfish
i build disasters out of nothing
and call it trauma like it excuses me
the mirror doesn’t even flinch anymore
it’s used to me lying
used to me pretending i deserve breath
when i know i don’t
i am the reason it hurts
the reason they go silent
the reason the world feels heavier
i made it this way
something is wrong with me
and i made sure it stayed
because if i healed
who would i blame but me
-
Author:
R.W (Pseudonym) (
Offline) - Published: November 6th, 2025 06:45
- Category: Gothic
- Views: 11
Offline)
Comments3
A poem of self deprecation where what is seen as bad is amplified and expanded into a cancer that devours that entire being. Dark and well painted
so relatable, it almost feels like i wrote it. thank you so much for sharing!
Great write!
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