Self-Projected Rejection

The pain of rejection

told you are not worthy of a love story to tell

like rains of dejection

that paint your world black, not neon or pastel

It's the fire that fuels the gothic soul, broken and scarred

like living in a sea of tears and misery

comfort food for the emo heart – black, sunken and charred

and I'm wallowing in it, neck deep in the sludge of my history

the stagnant waters of its cruel delivery

The way it tricks you and teases with false hope, then pulls the room away from you

left alone on just a bare rug, that only has room enough for one

and you bathe in the grey, let it permeate your clothes you let it soak right through

as the rest of world carries on in a parallel universe, that doesn't even notice you've gone

The way the rain doesn't just get you wet

it takes it to another level of soaking

like the tears that you cry when you realise that this is as good as it gets

when you can feel the rain underneath your skin

all the while the waters are still pouring

The way that the one that you admire or desire, who sets your heart racing

the one that you spend every minute of every day thinking about

you want to engrave words of love on every wall that is facing

she sees you in a light so different, you want the world to fadeout

it's a pain that you spend too long embracing

Or you would, if these words were true, but to be rejected you must open up

these words are what happens inside, when I even think of asking you

instead, I listen to the invisible voices, that tell me there is no hope

and one day maybe, in some distant galaxy, I'll find a way to cope

Self-projected rejection of self-doubt and bad recollections

cause the tremors to shake and damage your foundations

You see anxiety plays games

it fills up all the empty spaces

in conversations

with unspoken words and self-hating shame

awkward silences are a plaything of the anxious mind

they breed thoughts, fears and all sorts of horrors unkind

It's like pulling on threads of self-doubt

then knitting them into a blanket

that you cocoon yourself in to keep the demons out

you fall victim to the dank black vastness

like a brain on a roundabout

trying to find sense in the world of madness as it spins wildly around

And you crack

splinters, shatter and you hide from the attack

the voices get too much

the punishment too tough

so, you hide, inside

away from the eyes that may pry

using any means to blot out the noises in your head

those sounds that make you cry

Thanks For Reading.

Peace & Love.

Kyle.