Smeared. But hoping.

To be in pain,
To hear the words you do not wish to,
The voice inside then says, "I hope I could disappear, and when I come back it will be perfect again."
Wondering, thinking, What the hell's to be done.


To hear that to have you is a loss,
To console even through the pain,
And then to hear them abuse your care saying, "Stop acting like you care."

To be unable to talk when things can be made right.
To be unable to say the right things.
To wish the person would calm down so you can talk,
And when they do, to be blamed for the silence too.


And still hoping,
Through the stabbing pain,
That,  "I'll somehow make it okay."
I will try again.