I can't cry like I need to.
Something is begging to be let out,
but I can't identify it.
I can't write about it.
I can't help myself knowing what this will all come to anyway.
Self fulfilling prophecy seeking
not even knowing what that means.
Wishing to startle and scare those
aching for a difference
just to get a reaction
not caring one bit if I come off as mean or
spiteful or
vindictive.
I welcome the beauty of the negative.
The truth has been in the back of my thoughts.
It doesn't want to come out.
It smiles at my pain.
I try to cause more to compete.
I always have to fight
combat
even if it's just with myself.
Wanting those that love me most
to look at me with disgust
asking why I would even bother
that feels like my true self right now.
I have never allowed myself to explode fully.
Kneading at the need for release.
Clawing at the corners of my existence.
Swaying back and forth repeating nonsense.
None of this makes any sense.
What am I?
Scribbles and scratches of what once was.
I mourn with no feeling.
I go through the daily motions like I should.
With fog in my eyes and ice in my heart.
I watch as I know what should be my path.
Recognizing the signs, choosing not to turn.
I keep walking on the wrong side of the tracks.
I don't ever intend to look back.
I have outgrown and grown old.
The me in this outcome has no substance.
But something is rising.
Over it, I have no control.
I will be let known when the time comes.
For that I can actually feel one thing
Terrified.
I crave to be alone if I so choose.
But to be left alone I just can't stand.
Dying to be bound and left under water.
I don't think I can handle my thoughts any longer.