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Dec 2020
I face each day
Like I face my reflection.
Teeth baring and stagnant.

Stale and unamused.

I ask

"What do you have for me today?
What adversity must I face?
Am I to walk a thousand miles?
Or think a thousand thoughts?
Will you be easy on me today?
Please?"

He says

"Don't water the plants.
They want to die.
They don't want to bloom."

Take their lives.
**** them off

I'm talking to myself out loud.
I hear my voice
But I don't hear any words.
I hear the disgruntled mumbles
I'm attempting to speak.

In due time,
things will be fine.
In due time,
You'll make sense of it all.
Where do I start?

I ask

"Do these things matter?
Am I supposed to feel?
Where's my guilt?"

He says

"Don't water the plants.
They want to die.
They don't want to bloom"

That's all I get?

He says

"That's all you'll ever get"

As if he was in my head.
As if he heard my thought.

No matter how much I asked,
That's all I ever got.

The flowers.
They don't want to be alive.
They don't want to bloom.

Did the flowers give up too?
Was it their only choice?
The only one they felt they had?

I ask

No I don't. I ask nothing anymore.

So everyday,
I face my tasks like I face my reflection.

Lifeless and dull.
Withering and disintegrating.
Like the flowers i've neglected.
On purpose.
Because I killed them.
I killed them.

I killed my self.
I killed everything I ever was.
Caitie
Written by
Caitie  the states
(the states)   
89
   Kenny Johnson
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