I feel this force
pulling me down.

What am I doing?
It’s killing me.
I’m hurting so many people.
I’m hurting myself.

I can’t break free from you.
Am I being overdramatic?

You asked me
to simplify the complex.
But I am complex—
I cannot
simplify myself.

I’m so confused.
I feel my body fading.

I confessed my sin—
I was welcomed,
not judged.

But I know
I put myself in a hard place.
I’m hurting you
with my indecision.
I’m hurting you
with my choices.

Part of me just wants
to disappear.
To fade.
To die.

It aches in my gut
when I think about
how you must be feeling.

Your wife left.
Your wife didn’t want you anymore.

Are you blaming yourself?
Have you been crying—
like you cried to me that day,
saying the pain was worse
than when you lost your brother?

Is it because I’m still alive?
Because the possibility
of something being done
still exists?

I was wronged yet once more
So my faith is getting sore
I pray to believe there is still time
But there is no god on the sky of mine

My mum braids my hair like she used to do
The storm in my mind is about to break through
There's so little time, yet so much to gain
I would do anything to undo the pain

The years flew by like a shooting star
And through the life I've got so far
Now I feel broken, filthy and used
A lonely child the world has cursed

You tell me now it was all my fault
For not shouting out when being assault
You swore to help me yet now you detain
I'm begging you to undo my pain

Now I lay broken, gaze fixed on ceiling
Trying to drown out the failure of feeling
I am not heartless, I get hurt again
Much more to loose than there is to gain

I'm mad at you for leaving me here
I begged you to save me from drowning in fear
The voices inside me drive me insane
I only wanted to undo my pain

I am the worst murderer of all—
I killed my entire family,
but let them
stay alive.

There is only:
Happy Birthday,
Happy Mother’s Day,
Happy Father’s Day,
Merry Christmas,
Happy New Year.

There is no:
I miss you,
I love you,
When will you come?

I dug their graves
and buried them deep in the ground.
They wounded me immensely.
I gift them
with my nonexistence.

Living love is hard—
when you least expect it,
it sweeps your legs from behind,
leaves you sprawled on the ground,
bleeding out until you die.

There’s no one to save you.

I could say much more,
but I think only those who’ve lived it
know.

The pain
that tears through my chest,
from top to bottom—
there are no words
to truly describe it.

It is only
pain.