A back-stabbing knife.

You hope and wish and expect,
Smile and dream and get your heart-broken,
and it’s okay.
Hope is a camp-fire,
Wishes a Christmas tree,
And expectations a back-stabbing knife.
You call the cuts battle scars,
A funny name for self-harm.
You smile as blood trickles down your back,
But swear to never expect again.
An exaggerated lie.
Expectations are like cigarettes,
You’re addicted but,
Slowly sucking the life out of you
Expectations are like a cheese-trap.
Promised rewards and pain.
Jerry was careful with it,
Maybe you should be too.

NIGHT 1


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15 Comments

  1. I was just looking for a muse, and this poem is exactly that. I love the comparison to both self-harm and addiction as both often melt into one other.

  2. Wow, I truly felt every word of this! The metaphors are brilliant. Sometimes it’s hard to explain to people who haven’t gone through the same pain what it’s like — but I feel like this is impacting anyone who reads, and also inspiring those who are going through it to come out of it. Oh, and I love the twist at the end with Jerry. Great poem. Thank you.

    1. Thank you so much, Kayla. This really means a lot. ❤
      I hope everyone who comes out of it stays happy. I love seeing people smiling. Especially if they have a beautiful smile like you do.

  3. There is something to be said about backstabbing and I am pretty sure you said it all. Thanks for the share.

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