I had dreams to perform this before on a stage at a poetry slam. I had an extensive timeline and it was detailed along the lines of a bucket list of sorts. Seeing how I had to speed things up..... read this out loud if you wish-that was the intention. I want you to hear it in your own words.
To whom it may concern, may I have a minute?
I swear it won't take me too long to be finished..
I'm just writing this letter to let you all know that I've reached my limit.
Like the time on the clock, I guess my mind is just spinning.
Don't wait for my voice to be an echo for you to listen.
My mind recognizes trauma like soul recognizes seed, did I mention?
This luxurious life comes with a high cost.
I don't know how I find myself but I'm still lost.
Maybe my sins weren't paid for on the cross.
And maybe I'm to blame like the rest.
Because if I'm going to do it, I'll do it best
I'll take out the demons in my veins-
I mean the ones in my chest
They cloud my brain....
I can't imagine a long life,
I can't imagine a life without me turning to a knife.
They think this is a life of choosing.
I don't know how much longer I have before I just lose it.
I'm running out of distractions, I can't even play music.
I can't even pray, my spirit is fucking ruined.
What's the point of having a voice if you can't use it?
Okay, that's a lie. I'll scream and shout just for someone to look me in my eyes
I don't believe the advice
Because the truth is, my pain is bigger than my flesh that's why I need a mic.
God damnit, before I end up dead.
I don't need anyone to listen, I just need to hear my voice echo off walls instead of in my head
I need someone to know that this is real and I hope it makes you uncomfortable talking about the ledge.
I mean just one step...and you're willing to risk it.
This isn't to glorify but I need to be explicit.
So it's more than spoken word, I want this to resonate different.
Even my words should have left some type of sign. But I guess faith is blind and it's hard to describe
The Feeling.
I don't have enough metaphors to explain the opposite of healing
I can show you scars and all of the lines.
But I can't put into poetry or a book about what it's like to be dead but alive.
Sewing your smile and trying to confide
Trying to find your place in the world, asking God, "Why?"
Why do I belong to life when it's really mine?
What response am I expecting when I say I'm not fine?
Painted this face so well, they dont see any tears, they see that I'm laughing.
So I laugh like none of it happened.
This type of pain you can only experience, you can't just read about it.
Don't talk to me like I don't know.
Talk to me like I just didn't think about it.
Because maybe I might've dreamed about it.
Manifested happiness from ashes like the pain didn't make me bleed without it.
So I spilled my truth like sacrifice
An maybe I'm paying the price.
Maybe this poem isn't for the world.
Maybe I just needed to hear the sound of my own voice because I forgot what it sounded like.
I hoped that there would be more to me. I hoped there was more for me.
More than bills and being someone's employee.
More than a bird dreaming about what it's like to be free
More than a product of what my mind has made
More than 7 years of broken razor blades
More than walking down these streets like halls
More than any of this at all.
Because we're all just trying to figure it out and maybe some of us will get it.
So what does that mean for the rest of us?
Do we let our humanity get the best of us?
Watch this golden life turn to rust
Or do we just write about it
Maybe we speak about it
Maybe we endure so one day, we'll preach about it.
And I was hoping that would apply to me.
I was hoping there was a bigger puzzle for me to see.
But I don't have the strength to even care to get to the other side.
Because these demons stalk beneath my bones, now there's nowhere to hide.
And there's no convincing me otherwise now...I've finally made up my mind.
