Why?
This is all i can ask myself.
This is the only word that my tender lips
Can manage to choke out.
Over and over
The word plays in my head,
Flashing back to memories I had tried so hard to forget.
Why me?
I had a good family.
A loving and slender mother.
A stern but fun father.
Even a little sister,
Who was always so very little.
My family was never a problem.
It was the influences
And the stress,
The hurtful words
That the people in my school spat at me,
Like I was dirt.
Not a person,
But grimy
Filthy
Ugly
Dirt.
Only days before this,
There was a silly girl who picked up a razor
And decided to end her life.
But before she did,
She went over all the bad things that had happened,
She decided which ones were worthy
of her precious tears,
And which ones weren't.
She brought back moments of guilt,
Moments of force,
Moments that weren't her fault,
And moments that were.
These moments became reasons.
Reasons why.
And that silly little broken girl,
Was me.
YOU ARE READING
Impulse
Ficção AdolescenteSummary: A girl wakes up in a mental institution, her wrists are bandaged and she can't remember why she's there. But when the memories start to flood back, she has to relive every horrible and vivid memory of how she got to where she is now, so she...
