Poor You.

As you sit in your bed,
Staring at that screen,
I can see your brows furrowed;
I can hear your fingers click
Sending words of cry for help.
Your mind is getting to your head
Unsure of what to say.
Your chest is dropping.
Your guts are twisting.
And you still tell yourself
"I do care"
All while you scream
"I hate her."
Why can't you just admit it?
iI's all just trying to
Kill loneliness your plagued with.
You love no one.
Emotions are understood
Often forcefully created.
You blame yourself
But not in the right way.
"What's wrong with me?"
It's your fucking mindframe.
You cannot hear anyone else.
You just want that false bliss
Written in story books
And displayed on big screens.
You'll never get it if you keep at it.
All you'll do
Is hurt the others.
All you did
Was hurt me.
Pity should never be given
For you are a monster
That you cannot understand.