You make me recoil when I see you.
You make something crawl inside me.
I don’t want to see you.
Take note of you I won’t.
I do not want to see the real issue.
These unspoken issues that lie behind the loud shouts.
They hide behind your irritating, obnoxious mannerisms.
Of your drunken self.
I will not.
I should not.
Notice nor care.
Because if I do, my heart bleeds for you.
For your shout is a silent cry of help.
I see you.
I hear you.
But I also have my problems.
My shoulders aren’t big enough to carry you.
So, off you go!
I shut you out.
I push you out.
I want you far.
I dread you near.