Her mind’s protected
By an armour of thoughts.
Irrational to the world
But brilliant in their existence.

She isn’t understood,
Crazy to most fools.
The delirious girl next door,
To whom haven must be brought.

Like a vast ocean,
the overwhelming weight sinks the insides,
marking a persisting emptiness.

Like a vulnerable fool,
waiting to breakdown.

The surroundings serves naught
but reminder
to why you want out.

Yet there's no way around life than to live.

How for everything there is a reason.
Yet you can't find anything else at fault.

For the things that happened,
for the way they reacted.

As though every snap-back of the stretched rubber band
signifying effort,
is well-deserved.

Putting it out there always comes back like a beating,
a reminder why you clam up in the first place.

The effort becomes too much,
constantly repressing,
constantly reminding,
how worthless it'd be,
like offering iced water in winter.

Then you tell yourself
you don't deserve this,
or that,
or anything else.

It seems like everything is wrong.

You can't fix it.
You can't end it.
You can't seek help.

When life busts about,
you partake,
you live,
like its
the only freedom.

When you're stuck,
it feels deserving.

Being in misery,
causing misery,
asking to be put out of misery,
dreaming of it,
yet so scared to disappoint the only one that matters.

He who seems to have never given up,
He who never gives what you can't handle.

Yet you feel the burden of it all
weighing you down.

Just awaiting,
for the day it all ends,
hoping that He'll forgive you,
hoping that one day,
you can return,
loved.

& still you believe to be undeserving.

How do I live now,
when each ray of hope
isn't mine,
when each blame
lies on me,
when the cycle never seem to end.

The heart cries for salvation,
and the ones close
to never hear of it.

"My attachments don't run deep."

Was what I said to her.

Was it a call out,
or a dare,
I can't figure.

Never held attachments
besides family
close.

There were those who came close,
but then left,
leaving me
in a tighter shell.

A recluse,
who seeks a deeper meaning to life.

All I wanted,
was someone to want my company,
and encourage me to be better.

Each time I think its her,
or
him,
just like always,
they leave me wondering,
if it was me or them.

These attachments,
were close,
I figure,
once upon a time.

Then I realised,
they weren't close enough to weep for,
nor ache for.

When I disappear,
or am in a state of mess,
there was naught they did,
didn't notice,
or couldn't be bothered,
having deeper attachments of their own,
not family,
just like me,
but one who obviously means more,
than I could ever be.

Was it me then?

I've always known it to be me.

Couldn't keep anyone staying,
Couldn't keep anyone caring.

Aloof,
I became.

Nice,
I've been told.

Funny,
I could be.

A *****,
I try not.

Weird certainly.

Always tried being nice though,
"do unto others what you want done unto you",
never it worked,
maybe I'm inconsistent,
or maybe,
just not worth it.

When I watched,
them in their environment,
having fun,
being themselves,
being loved and accepted by many,
I knew there was no place for me.

Away,
in a corner,
alone,
I always was,
not because I wanted the solitude.

But it was the most comfortable I could be,
neither trying like a fool,
nor licking my merciless wounds.

I certainly kept trying,
maybe not hard enough,
but I hope,
maybe just one day,
I'll be good enough,
then maybe,
someone,
anyone,
would start caring.

Pathetic really*.

For each part stolen,
For each day in pain,
For every touch that recoiled,
For every burning second.

I thought that maybe it'd be nearer.

For each breath that hurts,
For each night in tears.

I begged and begged for it to come faster.

When time makes a mockery out of the living,
When the greatest one just wants to prolong what he knows best.

I don't know how to act the difference between
being awake and
being alive.

What if the night ends each day with the
same resonating emptiness?

What if waking up becomes the
same as sleeping each night?

I don't know for how much longer.