There once was a child born underwater. Her mother felt it safer and a better way to grow her. She lived her days watching her mother and all else walk over her. From where she stood neither way of living looked better. Her mother was sick and kept the extent of it from her, by the time she found out her worst nightmare was upon her. She knew there’d be people wanting to save her, but she wasn’t so sure if they really wanted to help her. The death of her mother made her pull herself further. Under the deep blue filter the people looked smaller, were they just ghosts of what was offered? She questioned if these realms were even for her. So many people arms outstretched above her, still, she just continued to swim down under. As she saw the helping ropes and good blessings she started to realize that she should have never even bothered. Every day is a horror that she cursed these poor people hoping to see the drowning child to touch and comfort. She never learned and didn’t want to, still, she felt bad for the people above her. She should try to live like they, she thought often. She was never able to get past horror. She’s still down under the water filling it with tears and salt hoping to choke her.
Tag: angst
I, Breathe
Ask me if I am happy
I will answer
I never expected to be
For someone that looks so happy
There is no faith in humanity
No one is worthy of it
My favorite song in a murderous musical
It is basically how I feel about life most days
“We all deserve to die, even you Miss. Lovett, even I”
That song begins to play constantly in my head
I know that I’m going mad
It’s all I can think about
I start to question if bad things are really bad
If I am the only one that is drowning on malfeasance
Then comparison begins
I have not suffered
I have not tried hard enough
Why do I have the right to feel this way?
I probably don’t
Yet, here I am
Weak and unworthy
Still breathing . . .
Vines
Four windows and twenty tabs
Drowning in green quicksand
Not understanding how to map
Unsure if she really can
Writing and hating how it sounds
Compliments that aren’t profound
Makes you question the bow
Wondering if people feel different now
How disappointed they will be
Debt up to her ears
No one to hear
Her swinging from a vine
Swinging In The Dark
It’s unsettling
The night calms yet brings dreams
Nightmares
She never did change
Was it for the people who wrote in her yearbook?
Was it for herself?
She sits in the dark staring at walls
She doesn’t know how to do this
There are no red marks on her arms
A sure sign she’s getting better
Nightmares
She pushed friends away and died
They won’t miss her anyway
She made sure of it
She’s too curious to leave them alone
Internet addiction
Social Media worship
Nightmares
Even when home she wants to be there
Home
Where is it?
She likes the feel of night
Never scared of walking alone in it
Darkness is different
She always runs away from it
Swings are perfection
The only thing that will truly make her happy
Swinging in the dark