PEOPLE PLEASING
- Dark Poets Club
- Dec 10, 2025
- 1 min read
By Chloé Combs
If I wasn’t
such a raging people pleaser,
I would have killed myself by now.
People pleasing tempers the force behind the blade,
a finger between my neck and the noose.
My own naloxone.
I haunt this reality:
Mom and Dad sit at the table and sigh.
“What a disappointment.”