Nothing

The thing about me is I talk too much, but never say enough..

Cause I hate to see people sad, so I pretend to laugh,

When I'm hurt and bleeding inside, but never enough to not love..

So you'll leave feeling great, and I stay here battling self-hate,

Maybe that's my journey and its part of fate,

But I'd rather suffer and let it accumulate.

So nothing's ever wrong when you ask,

Cause you can't handle the truth, it's a gruesome task,

Maybe neither can I...

I'm afraid to admit that those I never thought would or could,

Hurt me way more than in my opinion they should,

And if I ever tell them, it might be misunderstood,

But keeping it to myself isn't doing me any good.

Reviews

[John the Baptist]

The speaker, like many, suffers quiet desperation in silence. The last line indicates it's hurting him. However, no corrective action appears imminent. It's all up to him. Nicely rhymed.

[Fvrrie]

Thank you very much