Yearning to feel something in my skin because it's not decaying as it's supposed to be.
what am I doing here?
how the hell did I survive hell?
I know I didn't
countless times the clock has ticked
blood spills and wicked spells.
I've been taking this medicine for years
the pills don't work
I know it never did
so god, again, can you see what I have become?
I beg of you,
take this life away from me.
the gift of yours kind of backfired--
the plan was to be the bravest soldier,
not a child locked in adolescence.
not a child filling her skin up with doodles
until its state is the same as her heart.
god you have to understand
if I don't do this, if I don't leave scars for them to see,
they would never see what damage they've done
unless I let them see I'm physically unable to pull myself together,
unable to walk on my own without spraining my feet from dizziness,
unable to swallow lunch and not form some bits of choking,
they would have never guessed what damage they have done.
god, I'm ruining your precious creation
there is no helping left
the only thing left to do is to
end.
this.
madness.
YOU ARE READING
Dazed Off
PoetrySee what the young poet wrote in her old journals at only the age of twelve, and how her mental state progressively gets worse at age fifteen:) Collection of poems mostly about God, family, love, and hate to oneself. • most impressive ranking: #6 in...
