I am a monster who is trapped
in varying levels of confusion, desperation, hypocrisy
Slamming doors in the faces of anyone
who offers me a purpose.
I question if love knows the word requited
because of how many times I've been able to find
purpose
But only in the bottom of an empty bottle while
Sitting tongue tied in a vacant room,
Fantasizing about the peacefulness of the cemetery a few blocks over.
Maybe that's why God stopped listening
I've looked into so many eyes
So many god ****** eyes,
explained my ghosts
struggling to make sense of the monster I am.
It's not that I've lost touch with empathy,
But putting it into words
Would be describing depth perception
to a blind man.
I once watched my father spend hours in front of a mirror
I couldn't tell if he was laughing or crying
but I've grown so familiar with his actions.
I am a monster and not by choice,
who was broken with love only once
and since then I've learned to walk with cracked bones.