The little things

Some days
I cry myself to sleep.
And tears stream down from my eyes,
down my cheek,
past my neck,
and on to the cold, hard, floor.
I can't help how I feel because believe me,
if I had a choice,
I would feel nothing at all.
Sometimes I don't even have a reason to be sad.
But most of the time,
all the little things build up,
from the news of my grandpa dying,
to my friends moving,
to some just blatantly ignoring me.
To the yelling I come home too,
and the punches that get thrown at me.
From parents not paying attention,
no matter how hard I try,
and always being the last option.
From being picked on,
just because I'm not the same as everyone else,
and watching him choose someone else over me.
Feeling like I'm worthless,
and alone,
I just can't take it anymore.
So I hide myself from the world,
and hope no one sees the puddle on the floor.





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