Pariah

I want to suffocate myself. I don’t want to breath anymore. I have no friends left, no one left that I deserve to ask to help me open the door. I am as lonely as a girl can be. I walk up all alone and realize there is nothing left inside this plastic terrain of me. Something has gone terribly wrong and now there is no turning back. One thousand beautiful colours of rainbow from yesterday are now shaded in black. Though I am young, I know now that the palm reader was true. I will not live past a young age, I will not make it through.

I know that each day the sun will continue to rise, with renewal that there is no turning back. Only an understanding to uncover your volatile past. But I have succumbed to knowing that I am not a woman of steel, only a loser that can’t stop but feel. They are all gone, I am surely alone. Only children remind me that I must fight the pain of my sadness and pity, even if I have lost my own way. Back on to the playground with your head up. Here, now I sit and cry, for I know that my heart is a tissue torn that has been cursed to never be geared to reverse.

Everything has gone to dark, even on the brightest of days. Don’t look at me for hopefulness and happiness, for these are distant feelings that are now a passing gaze of my younger days.

If I died tomorrow it is not because I did not love you. It is because I am too lonely to understand how to be without you. I have a family that is broken, though we are still one. I can’t seem to escape the leash of hereditary insane, there is no glamour in shame. I have come undone far beyond repairable control. Now watch me fade into an inspiration of a woman that once lived with such faith, who will be remembered for all the mistakes she continued to make.

I need to reach out all the time, I can no longer stand alone. What a tragedy for a woman who alone once was a whole. I am divided and conquered. I am no longer a glass half-full, I am a glass half-empty. I am no longer a wise mother, I am an illiterate slave. I am no longer a teacher, I am an idiot dancing around with imperfect grace. I am no longer a lover and I am definalty not a fighter. But I still manage to have a damaged soul.

I always thought that I could make it through, I have such a strong mother to look up to. She is a survivor of displacement and personal pain. Born under the same energy and sky as me, but I am not as brave as she continues to be. For it is me I no longer want to be. It is me that has become so weak and bowed down to the face of defeat.

I submit my body, down on my knees I beg for you to stop all the pain in me.