Young Poison

Each text a delight, A light, A cure For an inexperienced heart. You lead me on, Unknowingly. What you call kindness Is poison, slowly killing me. The hurt and sorrow For what will never be, Yet hope Still refuses to die. I wish I had the courage, The will to make it known. But the risk is so great Is it even worth it? I've left subtle hints, All ignored. Am I overthinking, Or is silence your answer? They say youth is a blissful time, But all I have are questions, Crippling inexperience and fear. Is this what it means to grow?