I lost my childhood...

Please help me to find it.

For a year or so, I was happy.
Comfortable with myself.
There were always the pervading fears
And the lingering self hatred,
But I was almost happy,
For a while.
But know I see myself again,
And I do not like what I see.
My hatred is back
And I think it's going to stay
For a while.

**** you.
You and your beautiful wings.
My wings have been clipped
and my feathers are ruined.
There's no point in staying behind.
Don't bother waiting.
I'll never be able to fly with you.
Just fly away and leave me with my misery.

I love to watch my skin part.
The way it gives,
Like paper.
The ink oozes out,
This deep red color,
Like the mistakes I've made.
Write a novel in my skin,
For we are walking stories
And it only makes sense
To write it down.

Cupid's existence must be pretty lonely,
Watching all those people,
Fall in love,
But never being able to feel love.

The bringer of love, unable to feel love.
Isn't that a sad irony?

Death like eyes knows little of listening to the cold love hardened words cupped in my hands.
It just wants a way to feel able to be held dear.