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It's rotten work
It is for me
If it's me

It's rotten work
To get up in the morning
To keep breathing

It's rotten work
To make coffee
And drink water

It's rotten work
To eat when I'm not hungry
And get dressed every day

It's rotten work
It is to me
If it's me

It's rotten work
To go to work
To pay my bills

It's rotten work
To fake normalcy
And mask whatever the hell this is

It's rotten work
To not just sleep
Sleep and sleep and sleep

It's rotten work
It is for me
If it's me

It's rotten work
To drive each day
And not off the highway

It's rotten work
To be alive
And keep caring for myself–or trying to

It's rotten work
Because all I want to do
Is not talk, not eat, not drink

Just...sleep.
I'm getting bad again. Maybe I haven't been okay in a long time, I've just been hiding it. Either way, I am here again and I guess I forgot that it's rotten work to keep on living when all I want to do is sleep.
I've been here before
The leaving
Been here on the floor
Been heaving

I know of this place
The rapture
You're leaving this space
Can't capture

I can't keep you here
I'm hurting
So I'll disappear
Reverting

I'll put up my walls
Not peaking
I'm hiding my flaws
Stopped seeking

And everyone leaves
They all do
They rob me like thieves
I love you

I want them to stay
You won't, though
So I ran away
A deathblow

You dealt it to me
Deranging
You say we're the same
But we're changing

Don't ask me to let
You hurt me
Then wonder why I
Want to flee

Folks always leave
I know it
So why try to cleave
Just submit
She asks me why I'm acting differently after she told me that she is moving. What a joke. I can't handle so much at once. It's too much. I'm full, overflowing and I shut down because I don't know how to cope with the fact that everyone is leaving me behind. I don't know how to do it. So I tell her that I'm having a rough time and that I don't know what she wants me to do when the truth is that I just don't know *what* to do anymore.
It seems like lately
Its all been pain and frustration
And I realized
That I go to counseling
And I'm told about how toxic
All of my relationships are
And I realize
That I don't know who to love anymore
And I just don't know
If it's worth it to me
To rid myself of poison foods
If it means I'll have to starve.
I know she's right. I know that I have a tendency to form toxic relationships because of all that I've been through. But it just seems as though in the process of stripping off the people who aren't good for me, I'm also losing everyone who I love and I don't know if I want to be alone for the sake of getting better. I don't know if I am willing to face the fact that I have a lifetime of bad relationships and that they need to be torn down in order for new and better ones to be built, you know?
I got in trouble so much as a kid
For screaming or yelling at my parents
Siblings
Or anyone else
And it took me 27 years to no longer feel like a wretch for that,
But it finally hit me today:
Why does anyone shout?
They're trying to be heard.
And I shouldn't have had to be so loud
Just for someone to listen.
It's not my fault that I had to scream so loudly
In order for someone to hear me.
Oh how badly I want to go back to the younger me and tell her that I'm sorry that no one ever heard her. I want to tell her that my folks and siblings didn't hear her, but I am finally listening and I'm going to help her now, and we're going to be okay. Everything's going to be okay.
I keep living
As though love
Comes with strings attatched
And try as I might
I cannot cut through
That lie.
My shoulders ache, my bones forlorn
I don't recall my acts this morn'


I've purple bags beneath my eyes
My head's in pain from midnight cries

My back–it hurts, my jaw is tight
I know I didn't sleep last night

My demons came to call again
Lying to me about my friends

With weary blinks and bleary eyes
I sit right here and I realize


I don't remember what it's like
To not be so exhausted.
I was not raised by my sister's mother
Though the same woman raised she and me
I did not live with the same older brothers
Though we lived with the same older three

I was not cared for by the same father
As my sister had caring for her
The same person, he was, but I guess that's different
She had softness and I felt his burns.

I did not live in the same home as she
Though we both grew up on Fallow Street
I guess we're all changed by the parents we have
And more by the parents we meet

I did not have my sister's childhood
Hers seemed very soft to my eyes
While mine was a horror, tragic and bleak,
I fought very hard for my prize

My sister was raised in a different house
Different parents had she
We both grew up with the same people
But both had different families

As I got older, it took long to learn
That though we grew in the same mud,
My blood shared with her is thinner than water
For water is thicker than our blood.
The same two people raised my sister and I–JK and BK. We have the same brothers, P, N, and J. But I was raised with a mother who didn't understand me and a Father who didn't want to. She got the parents who had learned from raising me and decided to try harder with her. I got the brothers who should have protected me and all three failed to do so. She got the brothers who would have done anything for her. I love my family. I love who they are today and I am learning to love myself as well. But some days, it's so easy to remember how things were–they should have protected me. The five of them should have been my protection, but instead I had to learn to hide who I was and what horror lay beneath my smiling exterior because I had to protect myself since no one else would.
I love my family. I am fortunate to have three brothers who love me, a sister who is trying to love me, and parents who are trying to learn who I am now. It's just hard to remember my fortune when it's stained with the memories of the people I shouldn't have needed to mistrust. I should have been able to rely on them, and it still hurts no matter how much or how often I have forgiven them. I still remember.
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