Thursday, November 15, 2012

Dear Life, (3)

I'm scared.
I know this is
my third poem to you,
(in four days)
but my feelings
toward you
change daily
(and I'm surprised
I haven't written more).
I don't know how
healthy this is,
I don't think
it's healthy at all,
trying this hard
to correspond with life.
You obviously
haven't written back
and at this point
I just don't get it
(Or maybe I get it too much).
Can't someone just
fucking tell me?
What the hell am I
supposed to do?
I'm more suicidal now
than I have ever been
before, and I'm scared.
There, I said it.
I want to run away,
but I can't escape myself.
God how I wish I could.
You forced me to build
this self-contained prison,
and I want out.
The mind is too torturous,
too manipulating,
too calculating.
If there is anything
I don't want to do,
it is to make life unbearable
for others.
I can play nice,
and smile, maybe even laugh;
but the truth is I'm cracking.
I'm scared of following
my logic through to finish
because maybe I'm not selfless
enough to keep on living.
Maybe I'm burning bridges
because I wish that I could cry
about something,
to remember what it's like
to feel human.
I'm lost at sea,
and every day I'm drifting, slipping
a little bit further away,
so won't you throw me
a life line,
it's the least you can do
(I like to think).
I'm scared.
I've never hated myself
like this before,
and I don't know how much longer
I can tolerate it.
Maybe I'm not over religion,
maybe this battle rages
between my old ideals
and my new-found realism,
but like I said,
I haven't a clue.
All I know is that I'm done
with the same

No comments: