words from a broken soul

Curse

This blood of mine feels like a damn curse
Half my blood may be dead to me yet it
Feels like a curse something twisted in
Me yet we're not the sum of our parents
We're our own person each of us and yet
I can't shake the feelings of the blood in
Pumping to keep me alive is just another
Curse that I'm forced to carry as a scar
The hatred for my blood is strange from
The perspective of someone who doesn't
Know me and what hell I survived to be here
Feeling like a ghost controlling a corpse
That somehow has a pulse but cursed to
Be usable to feel like it's truly living its life
This blood of mine feels like a damn curse

But what's another curse I live with got plenty
Battles with anxiety and depression in silence
Joking about suicide acting like I'm fine
Got ptsd and flashbacks to fight off from
That abyss of the void But who's voice is
The void speaking with in that sickening tone
Got to much truama I'm trying to escape
Using the trauma to make art in my eyes
But what do others call it what is the value
From the words of a broken soul written by
A copy of a lad who threw himself into a well
Hate and pain the only things I knew growing up
All towards family and delivered by family
Got change the things that were drilled into
My fractured brain look in the mirror see
Who I can be even if the past will haunt me
This blood of mine feels like a damn curse

Time to move on and learn to love myself
I know what it's like to be loved and not
Because someone loves me for their sexual pleasure
The sun bleeds the truth in the oasis in me
I've come far I may still be distant but start
Small being cold and numb can't be turned
Off like a light switch casting darkness but
I can be dimmed and adjust to meet my needs
The fires in me they'll keep burning no way
They become smoke and embers my soul
It may still be covered in ash but that's okay
The memories that I can't remember I think
It's for the best they stay forgotten I don't
Need another curse to carry on my shoulders
Hidden from the world by the dead mask
That I wear on my face to avoid socializing
Yet that's was what makes me feel so alone
This blood of mine feels like a damn curse

But it's up to me so I don't succumb to the fear
Hidden deep in me that I'll be a nightmare
Towards my own family if someone is able
To look past how badly of damaged goods
I am stuck balancing sanity and insanity
Sane to strangers yet friends know I'm not
Got a disorder most don't believe because
It's "rare" when in reality there's just not many
Cases that are believed in the psychology world
Let alone properly documented because
People like me well our brain had to break
To many traumatic experience at a young age
The brain creates personalities just so we
Can survive the hell We're forced to endure
When you so used to hearing things that
Aren't you're own thoughts and a different voice
You assume it's a normal thing when it's not
It's just you and another you different Yet same
Two sides of the same coin different perspectives
On any situation your in chose which is best
This blood of mine feels like a damn curse