Help

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God, I give up, I'm leaving the rest to you,

Nothing I'll ever do is coming through.

Why am I ever born in such a horrible and toxic family?

Then you expect "love your neighbor" from me.

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A toxic unteachable mother and a deceased father

Who brought death upon himself, what a bother.

Add an overly dramatic, alcoholic-victim-playing brother in the fray.

I dream of peace upon breaking away from all them someday.

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I find solace in times of my solitude.

Suffering mental health, they've given me a multitude.

If only I can afford to live on my own

But it's impossible even if all my savings are thrown.

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I don't know what to do with all this anger and resentment.

I thought it was sleeping and buried under deep cement.

But this demonic family just kept shoveling away,

Triggering me to explode when I tried to keep mum every day.

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Ever since I was young, all I asked is for a happy family.

Now I want to leave them and make a real one for me.

But if I can't marry the one I want it with,

Then a family consisting of myself alone is a better fit.

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Why am I born into such a difficult state?

Please tell me, is this my fate?

Where is it? I beg you, please spare me some grace! I need your grace.

Are you going to kill me? Take my away, I want to see your face.

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Sometimes, I feel like I just want to end it all.

I can't even see a good future after all.

Am I only meant for suffering and sorrow?

That gives me no motivation to be alive tomorrow.

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Why did they have to give birth to me?

Letting me die unborn would've been better for me.

Escapism isn't what I usually promote

But in this case feels like the only antidote.

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My thoughts and feelings written on paper

But not even that makes me feel better.

I miss the good old boring and neutral times.

Wherein I don't have to think of sad little rhymes.

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I emptied myself for now.

Before it all comes back again somehow.

Help me God, I beg you, please take it all away.

I don't want to keep thinking of taking my own life someday.

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Copyright

Star Ashley Cruz

Nov. 23, 2020

R.I.P. (Radical. Immortal. Poetry.)Where stories live. Discover now