17/07/2020
September poem
Help myself, if I can, it isn't easy
But listening to your words makes me queasy
I wish I existed
Even if in someone's imagination
Because life is getting hard, it isn't easy.
I wish I had no pain, but I hate life
With no pain.
I need the sadness and fear
To live.
I know it's wrong, to feel like this, but I
I'm tired of this
Fighting
And choking to live.
I'd rather cry
Than pull off a smile
I love it when I flood my room
With tears that they provoke in me,
I hate my soul and body and face
When I have to pretend I can't hear
Or see the sadness hiding in them.
In this ocean of gloom, it feels so lonely,
I told her to quit, please get a job,
But being seven and young and dumb
Who would listen to me?
But being small and fragile and numb
Who would care, for me?
I'd rather die
Than put up with you
I like it when my heart slows down
Preparing for some cardiac arrest
I loathe hearing them tell me
It's all because of me and it's my fault
Or perhaps I should be better?
But those that were his eyes are pearls,
Now see the corals that were his bones,
Please go out, out my brief candle,
Kill the living, dying man
Who fears death and will ignore me
And never know how much he hurt me.
I'd rather sigh
Than live forever
Please let me enjoy the weather
As the sun burns my skin and kills me
I hate it when I must fight every night
It's just another, same big old fight,
Or perhaps I should know better?
Yet here we are, eighteen years alone,
Not that they're doing any better,
I'd like to say it's their fault
For killing me on the inside
No weapons could've done
The damage of this war I've won,
And lost so many times before.
