These Voices in My Head

Keep a hush tone and don’t speak to loud.
Don’t be obnoxious and hide behind  “You’re black and  you’re proud”
That’s ignorance and not to mention that’s ghetto.
Did you not here “ class “ is the new society’s motto.
Your brown skin just won’t do.
Its time your learned that too.
Youre so white, like a white girl in a black girl body.
Too bad you fit no where in society.
I mean you have potential, yet your still on the edge.
If I had something to say about you don’t have a head on your head.
Sigh
If you want to be accepted you have to be the best of the best.
Here I give you clothes to wear let’s put your classy appearances to the test.
God no that’s short
Breast is too much exposed.
Well you’re invisible so you won’t get a lot of attention is good I suppose.
Here’s some lighter makeup cover up those blemishes and marks
Why do you have all those scars, looks like you’ve been swimming with sharks?
Sigh
You’re so dark, teeth is kind of crooked.
I bet you got all the creepy guys looking.
Show a little breast , Show a little skin
That’s how you get the guys over and  win
I mean just have *** with him its not that big of a sin.
I mean come on you wouldn’t get him with that brain or face of yours.
Let’s admit your. You’re like a rose with thorns.
I mean hypothetically because not even ten percent picks you.
Behind closed I’m pretty sure 90 percentage mimics you.
Sigh, I am my own enemy.

I look at the dirt, clenching my knee to my chest, afraid that it would devour me. As if I was sitting in a tank full of sharks, it was hungry.  I held the soap so dearly, finding myself in the same spot yearly, scrubbing my body until its raw. Water filled to the rim, in which I can’t swim and I sink my body underneath, beneath and below; cleansing myself, being born again, under the roofs of my own home.  Only to be set free for the night and drowning in water the next. I ripped out the passages of the bible, I’m vexed, if this is a test it is too complex what did God expect perfection? Well it’s not me.
Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday there is no hope, when depression and anxiety comes in knocking on the door Thursday and Friday. I find myself on Hell's highway, driveway, leading a path back to tub. Where the razor blades lay still, the water is filled to the rim and pity is not longer a party but a club. Yet I am the only one, standing there under the disco ball, with no lover, no significant other just me myself and I.
Just me and my sin in the tub.

Sometimes your only escape is sitting in a room of darkness. Even with the different color paints you have no motivation to become an artist. So you sit cradeled into a ball brawling because there's no other response. Nothing about you or the things surrounding you shows acts of noncholance. And that's when you faill into a trail of despair. You see  yourself walking in the tears shed in the air. It must be black and an open invitation to run away. You can't think rationally and there's to many options to weigh.
In your hand you see a substance dripping pure black. In this substance you visualize everything you lack. You can see your soul burning into a ashes. There in your eye you can see constant flashes. This is your comfort state.
A Neverland of madness.
Here everything is okay there's even ending in your sadness. A Neverland  where your words are curses. And In your last existance you hear the venom versus.