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mikailaPoems
Sometimes when it gets dark I scroll down my friend's blog. She wants to **** herself. I want to tell her I won't see her in hell. That those pictures of starving women, all bones with skin stretched across like canvas Aren't lovely. They're obscene. She makes me feel so mean Hating her like I do when I see another silent moving picture Of a girl swinging from rope And another self indulgent sentence or two About how she wishes that was her. I want to tell her she hasn't earned her right to give up. That nobody has. She makes me wonder if I am cold and heartless, Or just a self-hate survivor. I remember feeling like I'd already died Underground in the silence of all that dirt Thinking it should be more peaceful than it was. I never gave up. I suppose maybe the reason I hate her so much For her indulgences Is not that I see myself as better, But instead the lingering impression that when I was that way I was the weakest Most abhorrent Most useless little smudge on the cold silver mirror of living, And I still kept on. Maybe it's not that I think I'm better than she is But that I know I was worse And I don't want anyone giving up When they're all stronger than me. Don't want to see a quitter more capable than I am When I- even I, the pandering puppydog weakling- Never gave in.
0
Jul 28, 2013
Jul 28, 2013 at 10:02 PM UTC
Confessional
Sometimes when it gets dark I scroll down my friend's blog. She wants to **** herself. I want to tell her I won't see her in hell. That those pictures of starving women, all bones with skin stretched across like canvas Aren't lovely. They're obscene. She makes me feel so mean Hating her like I do when I see another silent moving picture Of a girl swinging from rope And another self indulgent sentence or two About how she wishes that was her. I want to tell her she hasn't earned her right to give up. That nobody has. She makes me wonder if I am cold and heartless, Or just a self-hate survivor. I remember feeling like I'd already died Underground in the silence of all that dirt Thinking it should be more peaceful than it was. I never gave up. I suppose maybe the reason I hate her so much For her indulgences Is not that I see myself as better, But instead the lingering impression that when I was that way I was the weakest Most abhorrent Most useless little smudge on the cold silver mirror of living, And I still kept on. Maybe it's not that I think I'm better than she is But that I know I was worse And I don't want anyone giving up When they're all stronger than me. Don't want to see a quitter more capable than I am When I- even I, the pandering puppydog weakling- Never gave in.
mikaila
Written by
mikaila
Jul 28, 2013
Jul 28, 2013 at 10:02 PM UTC
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