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Dolly Balou Oct 2017
They say life is a highway, I say it’s a battle.
I love to drive yet not one ounce of my being wishes to drive upon this highway any longer.
Battles tend to be fought with an army, yet here I stand alone.
Why do they force their essence into my being.
Why do they require physicality from me.
This is not something I wish to give.
Leave me be, and my body too.
The last thing I want is to smell your scent in through my skin.
I do not wish to taste the bitterness of your personality that you feel so kindly to force me to do.
If you want me to drive, let me drive.
But I refuse to drive anywhere near the highway which you built.
That highway is not made for my kind.
That highway is what turns beautiful souls into broken ones.
The filth in my bones is seeping out, overflowing into the street.
I try to wash this filth away.
Eye’s closed.
I do not wish to see this filth.
Just let it be gone already.
I am sick of fighting this battle.
I have had enough of fighting.
You have succeeding in consuming my entire being with the filth you forced upon me.
Buried deep.
So deep.
I never knew the deepness of myself, let alone the depths of my despair.
I never chose this.
Why should I have to live this.
Why should I have to keep my head up and carry on.
How does your head hang?
Between the ties of a noose?
It should.
That is what I feel.
Yet in reality it is what you are.
I know you don’t have power over me.
All this time I have been fighting.
This battle does not deserve to be fought.
You cannot hurt me.
I refuse to let the gravel of your highway slow me down or make me crash.
I will not crash.
Not for you, not for anyone.
It is my time to grasp the wheel.
I control my own vehicle, not you.
I will not allow you to climb into the driver’s seat.
You will not place your hands on, or anywhere near, my steering wheel.
The vehicle may seem broken, but it is not.
It just needed some TLC.
Push me again, I dare you.
Watch yourself be ran the **** over.
I will not wait.
I will not spare you.

— The End —