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She's hurting inside
The longer she cries
Deep blue eyes
Drowned out goodbyes

One day she wakes up and sighs,
"What now?" She asks,
This is escalating further,
To the point that she's screaming at herself,
"What am I supposed to do now?"
She sinks back down,
Onto her bed,
She can't go to sleep,
She's too upset.

Alone and angry or numb,
There's no in between,
She is either raging or happy as can be,
Sometimes she wonders if she's actually
Feeling anything.
Give me something,
I just need anything I can get,
To try to heal it.
I'm trying my best,
Not to forget how to be without it.

I am searching the lines,
Creating new stanzas,
In a hopeless attempt
To get it all together again.

Lately I'm starting to see
Myself seeking attention,
Even if ever so slightly.
I realise I've clung onto things tight,
That make me feel needed,
Those who paid me attention,
And then those same people who then did the opposite:
Because everyone gets bored eventually.

Now I feel like I'm just waiting,
For someone else to forget me,
Another person saying **** it they don't need me.
In addition for a while now,
I've felt my siblings slowly slipping away and away further
To him.

But that's not what this is about,
This is about how self centred I am,
Once again, I guess it will always come back then.
The past years seem to be a sequence of:
Thinking I'm better,
When really I'm just changing the order of the pattern,
I'm just expressing it in different ways.

But I don't know how many more strategies I have left.
Obey the everlasting voices.
Those that beg you do,
They'll be here until you die,
The only ones that will never leave you,
Not even at night,
Like a soul mate - they'll be here when you cry.

Obey them young child,
You must learn to sacrifice your lust,
There's light and then there's darkness,
Although, here there's only you,
You wonder where you are.

Keep walking in the shadows,
Be careful you don't stumble and trip
In the land of murkiness.
They await around corners,
Unrevealed; out of sight for most,
But never out of your mind.

What's wrong with her?
She must be hysterical; psychotic; certifiable.
No one sees things the way she does,
No one sees them at all:
The shadows in the corners of the room,
The nails - or was that claws - against the windows.

They don't feel
The panic
Like she does.

They'll creep into your room at night,
You scream, trying to tell them goodbye,
Except they never leave,
You beg please
And they lock you in the cellar.

Months go by and it takes,
Half a year to notice,
You haven't been seen outside.
It takes them months for you to find yourself screaming at the walls,
****** clothes on the floor,
Because you want to get rid of yourself,
Before they **** you.
This is different from my usual type of themes, I hope it doesn't **** too badly.
If distress were a test,
We would all be in a mess,
Heads are vulnerable,
Yet have great need to be impressed.
Recover from brain damage physically,
Can we recover from our own mentality,
Come to see whose really the damage, eventually?
I don't even know what this is or why,  it's ******* I know.
Here I continue to write these never ending poems,
About some guy I never knew,
Someone I'll probably never really care about,
Because apparently:
It's still not out of my system.

I don't know how many more
Verses or lines this will take,
To pour this all away from my insides,
So I'm sorry if your sick
Of me constantly plastering this everywhere.
You're probably wondering how I'm still not over it,
Because every collection that I have,
Nowadays this always seems to get in somewhere.

I even dedicated a whole project to it,
Some kind of twisted devotion because I thought it might help,
They say I've had too much dissociation.
Those contradicting professionals,
Say this isn't good enough either:
I'm just not doing something right,
And my agony is wrong;
I'm not doing traumatic recovery right,
Even though if you ask me, there hasn't been any "trauma".

If you're sick of it,
I understand.
I'm sick of it too,
But keeping this inside,
It just won't do,
But I'm still told I'm not
Releasing my anguish anyway.
This is truly how I feel right now.
How to find an absent parent:
Step one: mention it to family,
Listen to them tell you how ****** up that person is.
The third step is: believe them.

Four: you get through your childhood and into being a teenager,
Also classified as a troubled youth,
Because, come on, no one gets to eighteen having escaped being mentally *******.

Step five, this is where it gets messy.
This day was always going to come,
It's the day you considered looking, you make a start of it too.

The sixth comes slowly,
Maybe a year later after things have finally calmed down
In this complex situation,
You get some kind of response.

Number seven, you start to question things.
Eight: now you question everything.
You officially realise almost everyone is a liar.

Nine, someone else comes along to make you confused,
You conflict yourself so much as if it's good news.
Ten is where you welcome back the mixed emotions you've had the whole way through,
Except now they're amplified by tenfold,
Have fun getting through!

Eleven: you get some answers that half work to your advantage,
Yet still tell you absolutely nothing,
And now you're back to how you felt before;
Longing for the opposite outcome;
To have someone that cares.

Step twelve is where you're at right now,
You're absolutely horrified,
Do you look once more,
Open your soul up to people,
So that they can tear it up again?
Ask if you can become their slave,
So that you get the chance to feel their mass rejection of you?

This whole way through,
You question, do you want to know who made you?
Are you really sure that you want to find out what disgusting genes exist within you?
By searching I feel like
I'm begging for a family,
Trying to tell someone they have to have me,
But they made me lonely.
Why should I fall to the feet of people,
Who do not deserve me?
Who purposely removed me?

Sometimes I wonder if I really want it,
I inform myself I know I don't need it,
I recite how it won't make it better,
Instead the discomfort will fester
And I won't be able to hide,
I'll be unable to make it go away:
And that's my biggest fear.

I've learnt by now,
How scary it is, when it comes around
To asking for things;
Carrying out the consequences.
By the time I get what I thought I wanted,
I no longer desire for it:
Instead I've put myself in Hell,
A place where I've backed myself into a corner:
And I'll never find an escape.

Somehow that storm has past:
I've survived, I'm still alive
But after that I'm back to needing.
Needing things to be okay,
Realising what I've missed out on,
All over again,
Yet I'm too scared to find it,
Because of how terrorising
It was the last time,
That I almost found what I've
Always been waiting for.

What I can't handle is,
Providing someone with my weaknesses.
This is one of the things
That could really hurt me,
And I'd be screaming it at the top of my lungs,
To some stranger that I've
Never heard of.

Eventually, every now and then,
The time comes around,
When I'd like to give in.
I'll just try, this one more time,
Maybe it won't be so bad,
Maybe one day if I do this it won't make me sad.

There's always this one thing
I don't understand:
Is how this makes people so **** happy.
It's like a celebration, a liberation.
Why are they so happy,
To find people who treated them like ******* before they really even existed?
They spent their whole life without them,
Because they simply gave them up
And I don't care about the so called "reasons",
For me it's just not good enough,
And then they're so happy to get the chance,
To discover them.

Can't they see it how I do?
They got rid of you,
They didn't want you before you even had the chance
To do anything wrong.
How can you look at,
Or hear of
Your own flesh and blood
And decide to get rid of it,
Like an old worn out rug?

So tell me, why should I live for,
Someone else who doesn't give a toss,
Who goes on with everything else,
While I grew up.
Do you know what it's like,
Being the kid in the playground,
Surrounded by their friends with their parents,
Whilst you're there with no father or mother in sight?
Do you know what it's like,
To cry at night saying you miss someone,
Someone you have never known,
Because you didn't understand,
That you can't miss a privation;
You can't miss what's never been there,
Because you're too young?
Do you have a clue,
What it feels like, to wonder why you weren't good enough,
To even have a ****** father?
Why you couldn't have a father at all?

But children are resilient,
You'll be happy to know,
So you get through all that,
Like it's nothing at all.
Then for some reason,
It all crushes you when you least expected it,
You see you've been apathetic, not caring about it.
Then one day you wake up,
And your whole life evolves around it,
Almost like an obsession that you can't stop,
You're sure it hits you harder than before,
With no visible cause, and you can't gather why
This suddenly matters so much now,
But it just does.

They may have gotten rid of you,
Before they had the chance to see you breathe,
That's not important though,
Because you'll suffer all the same,
With constant thoughts after you're sure you have escaped.
You'll wonder why they're so inexcusable
And so dissolute.
You'll ask yourself what you should do,
And in this society, many people think it's great, they think it's fun to find out
Just exactly who left you, who ditched you, who made sure you didn't even know their name,
Thinking about it will make you feel enraged,
Disgusted, but all the same:
These thoughts,
They will never seem to go away.
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