I see him every single day. The longing inside of me aches for his acknowledgement. His knowing of my existence.But truly I should hate him. He is a monster after all. I hide in the shadows of halls and argue with myself. There are people at my school who cannot let others joy pass through their sights. It’s as if their desire is to make everyone else weak so therefore they can maintain their power. But what is power that is taken from negativity? I will never know so therefore I will never speak up. I can’t speak up. No one will ever hear me or see me. No one even notices me unless I fall and cry or break when the teacher calls on me. I’m their daily amusement. My hands are always clenched in agony and my heart is always being ripped into shreds from vain conquests. Despite the tear in my throat my heart beats for the ailing souls of the forgotten. It knows what the others don’t see and hear. Despite my agonizing breathes of air I’m still alive today. How I can still walk with my breaking bones and how I can still see through the foggy lenses society has bestowed upon me is truly beyond me.
I cannot allow myself to speak. Speaking takes energy. I don’t have enough energy to simply express my being and then have my voice heard. My voice is quiet and raspy with edges of cut mirrors and thorny rose bushes. I used to be a lemon tree sweet and sour but golden and sunny as most people expected from me and came to realize and to be simply put that was their recognition. But then the hazy storms of dread pricked my fragile fingers and brought forth blood of ruins. I was ruined. But at first they didn’t care. They wanted to see me for the way they knew me and not the way I had became. How was it fair that she got the recognition from her ex and not I? Not everyone knows of my full story simply because of the sacred secrecy I have been cursed with. He has banished all thoughts of fantasy and left me as a beggar for mercy.
I am lost and lost have I been Through years of confused education Is an engineer all I can be? But what about the mystic lands of mystic people I sure should have a visit sometime And decide that that is the place to be Another confused decision And I run back from the mystic place Into the arms of another mystic ***** I am lost and lost have I been Through years of confused love Helpless confessions of rotton desperation And facing the vile of rejection ‘She doesn’t love me back!’ How many times has my system rendered The same sentence over and over again She doesn’t love me back She doesn’t No one does Then why do I keep knocking windows of cars Hoping that they’ll buy these windshields Oh, they need windshields, alright But not from you You see love is there in the world But not for you Homes are there in the world But not for you Don’t ask me why I don’t know why It is the way it is Love is not for you
Lurking for me in the shadows of despair I see no strenght in my spirit, cracking again Loud noises bring me eternal softness laying between you and the void Droping tear, licking blood, making me want nothing Then come back for more Seeing you can’t help Absorbing your glances and that makes me capable of escaping this hole of bones I can break them now Scattering them through the silence of my echo Illusion running through my veins, filled with cinnamon and grapes. You owe me grass of open locks Right before I became a prisoner in a coma