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Hanorah Mar 2018
Prisoner in my own body
Rapping against the bars of my bones
Peeking between my ribs
Trying to find a will to live

Receiving nourishment
Morning, noon, and night
Minimal amount of communication

In permanent solitude
Isolated from the outside world
My organs are my only friends
In this flesh-encased prison

Physically dying as the years go by
Mentally dead inside
Unable to form full thoughts
Unable to create a dream

Mind never wandering from the truth
Constantly focused on liberty
Willing to die for freedom from myself
Always trying to escape this hell
Hanorah Mar 2018
Sunken eyes, leaking invisible tears
The pain is present, but it fails to affect me
Numbness hindering my ability to function
Intelligence high, emotions low.
Glancing out the classroom window,
But i can feel the pressure of
The Anatomy teacher’s plastic skeleton’s
Empty eye sockets
Staring into my soul
Mocking my very being
Reminding me of my eminent failure.
Can’t be a coincidence,
It knows I’m a living body
It knows i go through each day like a routine
Wake up, brush your teeth, wash your face
Avoid looking in the mirror to acknowledge the disgrace
That is you. You have failed
Each and every person in your life
The one who mattered got away and hasnt loved you since
You’re stuck
You’re broken
You’re alone
The stack of plastic bones
Won’t fail to remind you of that
Neither will every bland bowl of soup
Every typical day
Every textbook passage and each false smile presented
To those who think you’re their friend
But they don’t really know that you’re not capable of caring
About anyone
Including yourself.
Staring out a subway window
Lost in my own head
Never failing to forget
Having to let everything go
But there’s nothing i regret
Though I’ve done so much wrong
My heart is empty and pale
Barely even beating
An Empty soul with an overcrowded mind
Can never stop thinking
Of everything I’ve ever done wrong
Trying to feel remorse, finding nothing but blackness
Nothing but a blank expression.
I now realize why that skeleton was staring at me
It was showing me my reflection.
I have rotted away everything that makes me who i am
I’m left with the bare minimum of a human being.
The ability to follow routines and instructions.

— The End —