Hurt plays downstairs.
And it rings in my ears.

"I hurt myself today".

The baby cries downstairs.
And I cry up here.

I don't want you to know me.

My books sprawled in front of me.
My tests tomorrow.

I don't think I'll take them this year.

Scissors beside me.
Small. Blue. Sharp.

Let's turn the wood floor red.

I am told to never conform
Be who you are
Be what you want.
Be am constantly being forced in the directions
others want me to go in.

I am told that love exists
It will happen one day
And it is beautiful.
But yet I see it no where.
Not in the people around me
who would rather be anywhere else but here.

I am told to work hard
to be known as a hard worker
to get jobs done.
But yet, everyone around me
wants me to pick up their slack
to do their work for them.

I am told the most important thing
I can become is
a mother.
I am not told to have a career
Or dreams aspirations goals
A life outside of the bubble it is now.

I am told to help everyone
be kind to everyone
politeness never went astray.
But no one is polite to me.
No one is kind to me.
No one offers me help.

I am told so many things
by so many people
to be this and that to be a model citizen.
I am told to ALWAYS respect others.
Even when there is nothing to be respected.
I am told to always be me.
But to never let it show.

This pain that's in my heart
Runs deep to my soul.
In which the devil has taken hold
To keep until I ask for it.
But I don't want it back.
Balthazar can have it
For lunch or supper to keep forever more
Because hell is better than this.

They don't pretend to be devils there
Or crush your soul.
They do it knowingly
And I'd ask for more.
I'll take it because this is better
Than your sycophantic friendship.

I am trapped, imprisoned
With hateful people and such sins
That god won't recognise.
Those angels he delivered have gone rogue.
They discovered **** and ethanol.
*******, bloodstains and ******.
They ask, just beg and plead.
But I don't give forgiveness so easily.

Get off your knees.
You won't be here long.
They're taking you down to room 101.
I'll see you later, for better or worse
And we will see what is gone first.

Mind or mouth,
Tongue or toes?
Arms and legs,
Or just your nose?

Someone I love will die in those pages again.
And I will cry again.
But still I read on through the heartbreak
To reach the ending of a happy story.

What folly!There are no happy endings.
There are only delightful pauses before the break.
Before the characters shatter and crumble,
And lose their loved ones or dear possessions.

Until they are not the characters we know at all,
But completely evolved versions of themselves.
But I read on, until I cannot recognise anyone I read, but myself.
Even so, it is hard to know what is real and what is but a page
In a storybook.

Shut up.
Shut up.
Shut up.
SHUT UP.

Can't you just be quiet?
Keep your ignorant trap shut?
Demanding you stupid little fantasies
Which no one can afford?

Can you just stop yelling? shut up
I just need some quiet. shut up
I just need to finish this. shut up
I just need to talk to you. SHUT UP

Can I please have a civil conversation with you?
Without you talking over me?
I feel like I have Tourettes
Repeating myself in bursts and splurges that don't make sense.  

Please just shut up.
Please just listen to me.
Christ no wonder I hate you.
No wonder I feel I'm not free.

*shutupshutupshutupshutupshutupshutupshutupshutup

Why must I live?
Why must I breathe
The very air more deserving lungs
Could **** in?

Why do I do this?
Imagine a death
So perfect and poetic
Most would die trying to resemble it?

Why do I try?
I don't want to do this any more.
I hope this is goodbye.
Because I mean to die.