Weird Kid that Writes Stuff

The acid curls around my body and mind like ivy.

It does not squeeze.

It secretes: suggestion, pathways of no longer being inhibited.

There is no fear.

There is absolution.

There is release.

There is peace from poison that feeds the loneliness of having to do what's right.

Until I showed them that

I too, am small

I too, am human with scars and flaws.

From my pedestal where I stood tall.

In a heap in a thousand shards of marble,

Winter feels more sharp now that the edges of betrayal are beginning to close in and smother all hope I have left.

Why must I dangle in chaos while others drink the tears of the fallen?

As a witness to this life, it is utterly menacing the way ghoulish faces can smile back as if they've never deployed a fire fight in a battle of a war I didn't know was raging.

Spring and new opportunities can't come fast enough.

I plead

To the sky above me

To the thieves of confidence that sting me.

Drown me

I cry

To the grass and the trees

As I get on my knees hoping to feel close to something.

Strike me

I scream

To the rain, the wind, and the lightning I hope strikes me. So, I can then experience something.

Take me

I whisper

to the person in the mirror

Hoping she'll hear me. So, I can be me again.

Breathe in to me

I think

hesitant

As I start to write the bad things that make me stay awake at night, that steal my sleep, that make me weep, that kill me...inside.

Maybe this time

Maybe this time

Maybe this time

I will find the portal inside my mind.

Slip inside

unlock the entities that choke my creativity down.

Maybe this time

I'll find me.

Maybe this time

I'll be me.

Maybe this time

Maybe this time