I Hate
I hate it when
I see through the BS, but can’t speak my mind
Or see someone poked at, forgotten, behind
I hate being
Pressured, pushed, but mostly rushed
Invaded, startled, tickled or touched
Falsely accused and misunderstood
Taken all wrong, when intentions were good
Or when
Confusion is stout. I see no way out
Ashamed, overwhelmed, I’m full of self doubt
Small talk is pressing, chatter, guessing
Neither one cares, what the other’s confessing
Just robotic words, it’s for the birds
Just meaningless curd, that goes unheard
I hate
Being restricted, clipping my wings
Fearful of judgment, afraid to sing
Picking up vibes that aren’t my own
Walking on eggshells in another’s home
Being down on my knees, in hopes to please
But still, I’m scorned. Like no one sees
Falling short, task or sport
Despite efforts, could not contort
But mostly I hate
Being unhappy, when times are great
The passing of moments and words “too late”
Feeling regret, like a waste of space
Impulsively talking, in a steady pace
The lingering thoughts of what was said
The billion stories that must be read
The social encounters, I fret and dread
The nightmares that play, inside my head
I try to feel happy, but depressed, instead
I paint on a smile, but meant what I said
Copyright © Anna Hopper | Year Posted 2020
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