Pascifist
What it would be like to tell someone, I don’t believe in fighting.
And that someone not call me a spineless coward.
Every time you insult me, my anger is overpowered.
I give into depression.
Yes, this is my confession.
I have taken a beating and more.
But I’m spineless, you say, right down to the core.
I know my voice is so small and I don’t speak up for myself when I should.
If I could handle the stress, then I would.
But my chest starts to hurt this terrible ache and pain.
Every gasp for air is only in vain.
I can’t seem to stop crying.
I feel only weak for trying.
This is what happens when I try to do what’s right.
I just simply cannot fight.
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