Maybe in another life I will be something less painful than a human
Fewer feelings and emotions and ridiculous devotions
Perhaps a butterfly so I may sprout wings to go wherever I please
To escape when I want and live among the trees
To be free from the mortal bonds which bind me still
Being crushed by those who see me as a bent and dying daffodil
I am viewed as a damaged and battered being
Yet it seems as though my outside casing is the only thing people are seeing
My mind is quiet foggy but my folded stems are not painful
They just distort my appearance and for that I'm quiet thankful
Because if those who care were to ignore my imperfections
Then by chance I could avoid societal dissection
Let me return as a creature without sense or thought
Then I will never be caught thinking of what I used to be
I'll be free from the prospect that the world ruined me
I thought I was alone in this place of misery
But I was soon brought out and could see clearly, instantly
Love was the lens I needed for sight
But now like the butterfly, it has left to take flight
There once was a time when the world brought me joy
Until I found people who sadistically poison and destroy
Now I again must revert back to nature
In the end it is all I have left...
Sooner or later

"If I killed myself today, the sun would still come out, the stars would still shine, so why not?"

Why is that a comfort? A warm, firm hand on my cold heart
The soft touch of a delicate embrace

But, it's supposed to be bad right?

I shouldn't but I want to
I know I can't yet I yearn still
What is wrong with me?
I find solace in strange places
The screaming of thunder storms and harsh blows of the wind
The chaos and pushing of hundreds of bodies against my own
I've learned to like the dark, the ugly, the bad

And it feels good
Why is that so bad?

But if it is so right, why does my heart scream "guilty" ?

Awwww, you're so pure?
Why,        IS it
I                           insist                               upon
complimenting
my                   friends
and they cannnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnot
take it
at                all?
I'm dubbed                                   pure
                                          innocent
                                   sweet
                                         How
                                  come?
Am
    I
      just
            a people
                      pleaser?
Terrified                            of                    social       rejection
so I try too hard
to be
that                                                 "nice"
girl
But,                      is she me?
Actually?
                                Cause,
                                          I do see the good
                                                               in others
                                         And the
                                                       bad
            Letting one out
Keeping the other
In         secure
In
Criticisms layered,                       with little
flowers
       Revealed
                   as soft
and mushy
            No hard edges
    Overly soft,
As if one               were                     protecting                  
                             a child





But,



Is
  It
    Me?