Words of Silence | Poetry / Rants

Teenage life and rain

Everyone always assumes that my life is easy. Everyone, being Mom and Tata. If my life is so easy, then why do I not want it? Why do I want to rid of my existence so desperately? In their eyes, being a teenager is easy. But that's because they're adults looking at me with disgust as I struggle in plain sight. Everything is so fucking fake. I can't even tell what's real and what isn't. It's nothing but jumbled letters on a page. Forming false words. None of it is real nor does it make sense. It makes me want to claw my eyes out and bash my head in. But of course I can't even do that. I can only sit here, on the bathroom floor, suffering. You know, sometimes I would sit in the shower. The water wouldn't even be on. I would sit in the tub, curl up and cry there. I waited and waited for someone. People reached out of course. They still are, but I must turn them away. I have to. I can't keep bothering them with my greed and selfishness.

Pitter. Patter.

Yes, the rain. Rain disguises my pain. The crying. The bleeding. It's cold and smells fresh. It smells real. Water. Sometimes the water runs red. The colors collide. Red ripples throughout the clear. Mingling with one another and staining every surface it comes in contact with. The rain makes it sting and burn. The tears are warm, compared to the rain and don't make the soft pitter-patter sound. The sky and I are similar in that way though. When it cries, so do I. Liquid leaking from above. Piling and flooding in some places. But still releasing what's on the inside. Sometimes it thunders. The sky is screaming. So do I. Thankfully it muffles my sounds. It strikes lightning. I slice. The electricity cracks through the air. Bursts of energy touching the earthly grounds. I take the blade. And without hesitation, I slice. The pain radiating off the wound immediately. I don't care. In fact, I enjoy it. Blood drips and I... I stare. At the wound and at the sky above.

"We are quite similar."