I am a failure.
A waste of sacred space.
Biological material that would've
been better spent on
something or
someone else.
A failure.
A dissapointment
and I'm used to being such because
the oxygen thats given to me
for free
is no longer wanted.
instead I breathe
anger
and sadness.
and frustration.
I rarely move from my bed.
As i write this all down,
there's an incessant pound
of the thoughts blocking up
my head.
I haven't seen daylight since Saturday.
My mother demands to know if I'm okay
and I'm not
I'm really ******* not.
but this voice in my head whispers
and whispers.
I'm a failure.
A waste of sacred space.
Biological material that would've
been better spent on
something or
someone else.
A failure.
A burden.
these thoughts swim round in my head
that I'm better off dead
or at least they could be happier
if I was.
Then i wouldn't have to make sure
i was smiling every single second
so my friends could spend less time
bothering about me
and more time
being drama queens.
Then I wouldn't be pushed to the point where i was honest
and annoyed them
because who the hell likes to hear about your mentality?
not me.
Id rather spend my days sleeping the sadness away.
because
I'm a failure.
A waste of sacred space.
Biological material that would've
been better spent on
something or
someone else.
A failure.