Posted in Stories and Poems

They

I am tired now,
It’s exhausting
Being questioned all the time.
I can’t take it anymore.
No matter how honest I am,
They still put a finger at my genuineness.
And who cares, I don’t care what they think,
It doesn’t matter if they don’t believe me.
Except,
It does.
Why?

Can’t I do one thing without worrying
That it will upset them?
Is it bad to refuse?
If it’s not, then why do I find it so hard?
Why should I humor them,
And not tell them what I think of them?
Why? Only to say it to someone else?
They don’t believe me, and I don’t care.
Except,
I do.
Why?

It really doesn’t matter though, does it?
If I was in their place, would I believe myself?
Hell no.
Then why does it hurt,
So much?
How many times do I feel like saying,
“I’d prove it you if I had a lie detector”?
Why should I care? For their feelings?
When they don’t, for mine?
Why, you ask, why?

For they are not just anyone,
But the ones I call my friends.

~Nehal


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