I'm Sorry

I'm sorry

For the words I hacked out of me,

The ones I hoped would make me feel pathetic so therefore special,

The ones I left for you to trace back to what I avoid,

The ones I knew hurt but I rolled over anyway.

--

I'm sorry

For the thoughts I left laying in my shadowy corners,

The ones that gave me fragments of my real self like sharp shards of glass,

The ones that held me and betrayed me and thrust you away,

The ones that whispered and whisked me into insanity.

--

I'm sorry

For the feelings I never expressed,

The ones I shoved underneath it all,

The ones I pretended to loathe,

The ones I blamed for everything.

--

I'm sorry I keep running back and forth;

Each time, I question what is normal about any of it.

(As if anyone know what "normal" is)

I take each step closer, thinking I know myself.

(If there's any point in coming)

I don't forgive myself, but time is vast yet doesn't forgive either.

(It's too big for the whole group)

Every stumble I had pulls me a step back.

Every second I wasted pulls me a moment back.

Every stutter I made pulls my words back.

All the cursed memories, 

The ones that make my breath shudder,

The ones that make me twitch and flinch,

The ones that I wish I could forget,

They linger and relive again. 

--

"I'm sorry."

Strange how a phrase so simple

Returns, reoccurs like the ticking of a clock,

so often it becomes meaningless.

("Really, I'd like a friend who listens.")

But it is me, who listens to myself the most,

Over, and over again.

In that case, I'd like to listen to something else.

(Is that so hard?)

Can't be that hard.

Note: The words in parentheses are taken from a previous poem, hence why it may sound strange. This poem is sort of a sequel to that poem.