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Jan 2016
I like to be called Harley.
Outside of this world I am called by something else,
In the other world I go by another name,
But this name allows me to forget,
Forget who I am and what I've done,
All the things I've ever said,
And those who I let lay too close to my heart,
I'm a liar and a cheat.
I suppose I deserve everything that has ever been done to me,
Deep inside me where evil lies,
I am a spawn of two wicked ties,
Forces joined to birth the child,
Who was never loved,
To summarise..
I was planned but funny enough still a mistake,
Never birthed as a symbol of their love,
Hatred took its place,
How *** can so easily be used,
As not a form of love but only a tool,
To hurt the other all while hurting each other,
I'm here now "mother" and "father".
I am me.
Uncertainty consumes me,
Is this who I really want to be?
Conflicted and confused,
Internally abused,
I used to hurt myself.
Found it to be an escape,
All just a ruse...
A way for me to forget,
I am not me in this minute in time,
I am Harley Quinzel.
The sad little girl,
Mad as a hatter,
I am Harley Quinn.
Call me by no other name,
Not in this place,
This is my space.
Written by
Harley Quinzel  London
(London)   
635
   PoetryJournal
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