Some people are born broken,
Disabled in a million different ways,
Their bones misshapen
Or their minds shattered,
And I'm in pieces in a different way.From when I was first born I was an odd child,
Never crying,
Ever silent,
And my mum thought that was fine.
But then the second son came,
Loud and boisterous;
And willing to complain.I was sensitive to things,
Emotions ruined and mind dulled,
I was bright as a bulb,
But constantly burning out.
I would hear constantly in my head
That I was wrong and shouldn't exist,
And the pain of existing hurt my soul.Because out of desperate desolation,
Or out of different dilligence,
I was wrong and worked wrong and played wrong and ate wrong and done everything wrong!
By the age of seven I was spending more time with books than friends
[Of which I had none of!]
I was paired with people that my mum would tell me not to cry around,
And because of a masculine-monitored mishap of our society,
I was judged for being soft and broken,
And I grew a shell that few broke few.In my teens I suffered more,
Scars ached all over my body
As ladders climb my arms.
I was dead inside and felt wrong,
And to this day I can't answer why
I felt the need to physically die.
What else could I do but
Sleep and
Cry
And sleep
And cut
And anything but survive?And now I have a new problem,
One that scares me half to death
Why is such a good question
That I cannot put to rest.
I feel wrong and speak wrong and look wrong and now
I am just wrong.
I can't admit to this problem,
I'm too scared to face it.
Because every other problem had a soltution,
Yet this one has no end.
Because my problem is a snake,
Eating it's own end.My first problem is social
And my last problem is not.
To fix the last will disrupt the first,
And then the middle one will be caused.
Even now I can't name the problem,
I almost feel ashamed.
My mind is blurred,
My arm is scarred
And I now even hate my name.But I have one soul that cherishes me,
So it will always be okay.A work in progress for a long while. Took a lot of effort to upload.
YOU ARE READING
My Little Escape.
AcakJust... Things, poetry, rants, everything. This is my secret book, my little 'diary' to update when I please. Except y'all can read it soooo.