Each day I lose a little of
myself
God only knows what I’m
transforming into
I’m not even sure I like the
person I’m becoming
Tired of play a role … of not
having a voice
Cause at the end of the day no
one listens
If I’m voiceless then I’m a mime
going through the motions of life
In an imaginary box trying to
break free
All the while smiling
Dressed up like a clown putting
on a show … yeah that’s me.
It’s not depressing
Life happens to us all.
At times makes us feel small, but
others rise back up.
I continue to fall.
Because I continue to dream that
one day I will be known for more.
One day I will put away the games and the tears and I’ll be
extraordinary.
One day I won’t cry myself to sleep reliving my hurts.
One day I won’t depend on anyone to make it go away.
I’ll just be me.
Me.
ME.
Wake up! And realize the world isn’t perfect.
That the imaginary box you live
in is your shelter and once it breaks it will cut you like glass.
Somebody’s going to break your
heart.
Molest you.
Talk down to you.
And they’ll still expect you to
smile.
You’ll be sick … and they’ll
still expect you to move.
To smile and make them laugh
That’s what they expect … so
that’s what you do.
Never forgetting the past.
Not caring about the future.
About yourself.
You were this young girl filled
with sass.
You were brilliant and highly
intelligent and extremely versed.
What happened?
What made you so insecure?
Who killed that spark inside you
that would have made you great?
Who killed you? They buried you in the
ground six feet under before you had a chance to live.
I was molested.
On Broad Street in broad daylight by a
drunken man. As people walked by. He forced his hand down my pants and tried to
ram his tongue down my throat. I’d never
been kissed. I was a good girl, waiting
for the man of my dreams to be his princess.
In that moment I realized that he’d never come and that there was
nothing really perfect in this world.
That was the first time tried to kill myself.
The first time I realized my thoughts
didn’t matter.
The second time was when I fell in love
and the man dumped me. When it didn’t
work I began to self medicate, Red Bull in the AM and pain killers in the
evening. It was the only way I could
sleep without crying.
The third time was when he got married.
That itch has come back and I don’t know
why. I should be happy but I feel like
I’m dying anyway.
I’ve begun to crumble. My back throbs and the dreams have
returned.
I feel inferior to so many.
I just want to be happy and to make
everyone proud.
To feel proud of myself.
I hurt the people I care about.
I keep almost dying. It’s scary.
Feeling like your life is about to end and sometimes wanting it to.
I hate feeling like I’m wrong and I don’t
know anything.
I miss having the feeling of knowing.
