I want to be who Im not. Pretending to be a dolly inside a snow filled globe; filled with glitter, filled with snow. Tearing up my insides seeing the blood seep out, feeling the warmth of softness of gooey Guts slide between by fingers, staining my small hands crsimon red.
I watch as I crumble down to the ground along with hopes of dreams of someone that I am not. I want to be known and I want to be heard. I want to be loved and I want to be yearned. I want to be what I can't and I whish that I was somebody that I'm not.
" what useful thing can you do for this world?"
My mother asked.
And I don't know.
I can't do anything.
I'm a jealous mistake rotting deep down in a pit I dug for myself. I want to be in power, I want to be feared. I want to be. But I cannot be.
A pathetic little mut with their head upon the stars. Watching life pass whilst being stuck in the past.
I'm too rotten, the decay has set in. My fingers are black with maggots dogging in. Flies dig through the patches of missing skin upon my back, beetles crawl on my bones shielding them from the night sky, worms wiggle in my lungs filling them up. Unable to take in a breath. Unable to breath.
They crawl to my mouth dancing with my tongue, spill out in a flurry of blood trickling down my chin, onto my sweater staining it deep.
I want to be something that I can't.
