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Once upon a time, there was a girl who had no name.
Or at least that what she'd tell the boys, who tried so hard to spit game.
She held herself on the highest pedastool, even though her love for herself was low.
She gave her heart to anyone who would take it, but true love, she never did know.
She was told that so much was wrong with her, and that no man would ever love her
Because she lacked so much; when a girl's like that, why should a guy even bother?
The love from home began to stop, and all her world began to break.
Boyfriends were garbage, friends were just as bad. Her life she wanted so badly to take...
She began writing in journals to keep the suicidal thoughts at bay,
But it wasn't enough, so she turned to other habits, ones that made her even less okay.
Body mutalation, lying, stealing, drinking, and other risky behaviors she partook.
Day in and day out, she wrote more and more in her little book
About how she hated herself and all around her, and how she felt everyone else felt the same way.
She locked it all inside, the secrets and torment, and day after day,
It all manifested in her chest, feeling as though it was an evil entity growing within.
She took a razor blade to her arm at least three times just to bleed out the sin
And other painful things that lived under her skin.
To everyone around her that knew what she was doing or beginning to find out
She was being stupid and an attention-whore and herself was who she cared about.
Obviously not enough if she was doing all this to herself, with no regard for her own life.
She had no hope for the future. Didn't see herself bearing sinful kids or being some poor soul's wife.
She felt so disgusting in the skin she was in, and wanted so bad to be a snake so that she could shed
The grotesque body covering whose sole purpose in her life was to stain her bed.
Time passed, another day came and went, and she found it a miracle that she was still alive.
Either she was too much a coward to kill herself, or she just wanted to survive.
She had lost her hope and dreams, and felt as though she had nothing more to lose.
So, she continued living and gave herself reasons to live, for that is what she did choose.
If you were to see her journals, at least thirteen now, each with the recurring suicidal theme,
You'd wonder how on earth did she make it so far, when it seemed as though killing herself was her dream.
That, is unknown to me as well, for that is something she never told me.
I figure there's a voice in her head, one that's fighting for her sanity.
I don't know if she lived happily ever after, but all that matters is that she's alive.
Her will to live is not always strong, but somehow she manages to survive.
Over time, I'm sure she tattered mind, spirit and heart will mend.
Till next time,
This is The End.
 Lafleur Soleil · Mon Jun 29, 2009 @ 03:37am · 0 Comments |
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