I won't say I'm bipolar because I'm
permanently enduring unstable.

Internal convulsions occur when I
stare
    stare
        stare
at that body that people tell me is beautiful,
but all I can comprehend is that slab of undesired waste
piled up on that heap of toxic reoccurences
that I am too cowardly to face.

An inkblot tarnish that bleeds through sheets
of work, an all-consuming blackness that eats
through my morale like acid through a petal,

that slow and steady browning tainting
the pure white of that spotless rose,
imperfect now, and damaged,

the bruise that seeps across capillaries
of hope until all thought of life is tender
and sore to touch,

false colours marking things that shouldn't be,
my failure marked in bold for me to see.

Grown adults can act
like poor, sad, childish bullies
sat behind a screen.

Dear Generation X,
Please take a step or fifteen back,
if that is what it takes to make you see
that some of you are thoroughly misjudging me.

Dear Generation X,
Please stop sh-tting on me when you
see me in a low-paid job because you
think that I'm uneducated, when in fact I'm
earning my own money to help fund my education.

Dear Generation X,
Please don't patronise me every
time I raise my voice with an opinion
of my own, prepared to eloquently argue
up against others more than twice my age, restraining my
own temper so that I remain polite, whilst condescendingly
you reply with "you're a little brat" who should "f-ck off and find her manners."

Dear Generation X,
Please refrain from moaning about
how the youth of today's generation
never have anything intelligent to say
when you place gags in our mouths, or that we're all too thick-skulled
and should go back to school, whilst simultaneously shouting at
us all to "get a job" and "buy a house", when many of us are drowning
in student loans, granted for gaining the knowledge needed to bag a "decent job."

Dear Generation X,
Stop trapping me.

There.*
That look of disbelief.
But yes, I am. So I'll be brief:
I am an actress.

"What?"
I know, I'm really not the kind
of girl that quickly springs to mind
when people think of those inclined to say
"I am an actress."

"But..."
I'm quiet, self-reserved and shy,
that girl who never seems to cry,
the one who never meets your eye, but yes,
I am an actress.

"How?"
Because you think this mind of mine
is great, that I am sitting on cloud nine.
For though these mangled thoughts creep up my spine,
You seem to think my life is fine,
so whilst my sun appears to shine,
I am, indeed, an actress.

An angel sits above my head
and spreads her gentle wings over
my tormented and tireless dreams. 
The battleground that is my bed
she calmly silences, her
kisses cooling stifled screams.

My angel knows my dark inside,
for she was with me from the start.
How fitting is the irony;
She was the me I tried to hide.
But something changed within my heart,
and now my demon saves me.

Wake up and smell the stench you made
again, you ****** it up again.
Self deprecating, grating shame
surrounds your stupid, childish hope
that you could live in love again.
      That crushing disappointment fills
the eyes and hearts of those around
and grabs your gut and wraps it round
your beaten, broken promises
in faith and fancy cruelly drowned.
     What fooled you into thinking that
redemption was within your reach?
Who made your mindless mind so each
and every time you try to speak
you **** all over verbal bleach,
      a choking stink that makes them retch
and run from you, the grody glitch,
the thoughtless, soulless, brutish *****
that bites each hand of human help
and digs her deeper, darker ditch.

I will be here, but I won't be here always,
You can't sit and grieve for the person you were.
I can't sit and soothe 'till the day that I die;
Only you can help you to get better.

I'm not in your head; I can't do it for you.
You need to wake up from this trance - please just stop.
I can't wave a wand and fix all your problems.
Only you can help you pick that chin up.

I don't see your issue; it can't be that hard.
All that you're doing is seeking attention.
This has to stop now. It has gone on too long.
Only you can help you ease this tension.

*I'm trying, I am, but it's not so simple.
If only you'd see life from my point of view.
I'm fighting so hard, but I'm failing alone.
I just cannot get better without you.

Easier to wound
than to accept that you are
hurting deep within.