Exist

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Exist

I exist.
My existence is
An excuse to abuse me,
Manipulate, destroy me.
How heartless can people be, breaking the broken?
Burning the cremated
Making me feel dead on the inside and messing with my head

My existence being the reason for my insanity.
The raging storm colliding with the walls of my head,
In my head,
You'll see the twisted, shattered girl,
You'll see the messed up, fucked up little girl asking
"Is there hope?
A reason to still be here?"
She says, "tell me there's something
To numb the pain
To take away the strain
The pressure
The stress or
Just something so I know I can be okay.
Because I feel like I can't stay"

You all make me feel worthless.
You all make me feel like shit
Because every single day I ask
What if I cease to exist?
There is no purpose for my existence;
I'm simply unimportant.
Irrelevant.
Unnecessary.
Unnecessarily selfish for wanting to end it all.

Why can't I live because of me?
Why can't I feel for myself?
I am the selfish one?
Because I want to die by myself?

To be or not to be.
That, is the question my dear.
And I do not care about your fear, or if someone's going to say
"Oh she was here"
I do not give a shit.
Because once I exit,
You little rats would cry for a day acting like you once loved me
When all you ever did was hate me
Straight to my face.

I lived. You did.
I loved, you hated.
I cried you laughed.
Is my presence a joke to you?
Is it because I lacked the sense enough to sense your mockery of my being, my living, my ways, my thoughts, and all these days

I lived.
I breathed.
Respired, Inspired, Expired, Inspired by the winds
Should I force nature to make me expire, because it's the only thing that just might bring
The joy you've been waiting for.

I am.
I exist.
And i don't think I want to anymore.
I, I was.

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