Have you wondered what it would be like to live with a clone of yourself; a copy; a living mirror breathing down your neck as it kisses through your insecurities.
Embedded those demanding pleas that began to travel through your mind, letting them echo through your life choices to be exactly like they invision you to be, and throw away the identity now stolen for a fresher model.
Leaving you feel as you were never living up into the potential robotic recreation of those superior to you, strapping you down for some sort of punishment you'd to endure because you failed them.
Letting you scream your fears and nightmares into a collective, just to silence you for the next plastic surgery to become a Kardashian or a Barbie Doll.
Overall you feel induced pain surge within your weak bones and mind, sealing that tinge of hopeful yellow within your fractured mind.
Colouring everything you stole a burgundy red, showing how you failed the expectations creeping into you; failing them all.
Off putting every identity of you and letting it seep in the abyss you now live in and telling you how things need to be done; what to look like; what to speak like; how to think
Painting the border of your wall the script you must follow in order to be exactly like them, and telling you in order to be worth a word was to follow it and to be fine with it.
You begin to forget who you really were and you indulge yourself into that fake identity you accepted as an invite to feel special and like you were told
Those feelings become depressive tendencies, and since your wrists have to be hidden, you falter and realize how wrong this all was- but it was too late.
Hell blazing within you brew to a tea served to those whom once loved you, punishing them for caring and to never leave such a friend as you once were.
An exact reflection you had once despised, now stands before you every day as you meet faces of your script writers and costume designers like tailors in downtown London or screenwriters in Hollywood.
Those were the only people you counted on as mirrors to see what you look like, but deep within that empty stomach shows how you feel for them, and you can't even admit your faultercations
Conceive a plan or become a dinner plan. Become who they want or tear down those walls and be who you want to be.
Open up to those surrounding and let them help you practice those scripts of your autobiography
Putting up with that mindset leads to misery and suffering; leaving those smiles behind a great roaring sea washing into that same abyss your body sent into.
You grow tired and play with your neighbor only to not be recognize the intentions.
Concurrent snapping, your lashings become excuses for the despicable sadistic feelings to anyone else who say you're doing wrong.
Anorexic skinniness perks up into a wave of suicidal wishings in order to be the perfect masterpiece you were hoped and dreamed to be.
The ending of this all creeps up like a hand on your thigh; steadily like a person of great love, slowly like someone fearful of the rejection is given, or quickly like someine who knows nothing but lust, greed, or anticipation.
YOU ARE READING
A Walk Inside My Mind
PoetryThis is more of a vent story/poem thing within lost ideas and unforgivable actions. I don't expect this to get any reads and such since this is kind of a dumb idea to publish.
