Rewriting history takes more skill than I think I have
No matter how many times i try to write a story
All I do is circle around watching my life flash around my head
Never learning how to make things betterÂ
If I learn anything it’s another way my pain, and her pain, and our pain manifested over the years
Staring at the pages I have filled with words I see how broken I really am.
/
And I don’t even get to live any adventuresÂ
All my pain is stupid and pointless
Because my story is empty and dry
Not even good enough to be in a realistic fiction story
If I was the lead of a story people would call it boring and drab
The history I can read through my files of words tell me I was sick before I even knew
Good to know that no one saw, or caredÂ
Should have known this before, it took so much to make them see this time anyway
And way back in childhood when we all had our heads screwed on wrong
How would any of them have even known how to help
The story can’t be rewrittenÂ
Accepting that I will never have gotten to not have suffered in the past
I can not have not lived through it
Sickness, abuse and pain will live in my bones forever more
I just don’t get a do overÂ
At least i know no one else gets one either
History is written by the victors sure, but we can’t re-fight wars, save lives that were lost
But I really hope that maybe the story I look back on in many yearsÂ
If I only get a day or multiple yearsÂ
The story might get to be better
Living with the same body, the same people, and as alone I will ever be
Life has not gotten better
If anything everything is worse with more grief and more hatred
But I’m running thin on hope
And words to write a better story