I am insignificant, unlovable.
I am the abomination
that travels time in my mind,
never finding peace of this life.
Reality overwhelms
and depletes me
for I am undeserving.
I am nothing.
I am the echo of a mother
who had no affection,
the image of a grandmother
sick and divinely twisted,
The mimic of my father
and all of his masculinity
channeled into the pound of a fist.
I am the heart of this home-
Empty,
my void filled with self loathing.
Pain.
Suffering.
How do I accept this daily?
How do I find the motivation
to use my tongue, speak out?
I don't.
Happiness was never meant for me.
Love was never meant for my future.
I am this,
the ghost that fades through life,
Touching no one,
hearing everything,
feeling it all.
And I weep.
I weep for what I never had,
but always imagined
to be in my grasp.
I weep for the loss that is my life.
The suffering, abuse.
The constant, dismal dismission.
For that is all I’m worthy of,
this is all I was meant to be.
Nothing.
