I'm really
nothing special.
Ask anyone
about me
and they
will say,
"who?"
I'm a nobody.
Actually,
I'm nothing.

It's becoming obvious that the thing I had thought I had tucked away was only playing a bigger game. It was when I thought to jump off the local bridge when I realized it was back and that shook every broken peice of me. I wanted to love "him" so bad but now the monster has made his name a bitter taste in my mouth. My depression makes me replay every mistake  I made with him a thousands time before it reminds me how pathetic of a person I am. There has never been an escape for me. I'm so sick of feeling alone and worthless. Alone and worthless...I was free.

What a hopeless excuse for a human, you plague my brain like a cancerous disease.
Tarnishing my will to ever trust again.
Your breath is an utter waste, using up oxygen, you still live on unaffected by your wrong-doings.
To want you dead would be too kind, as you deserve nothing bar heartbreak and to never find love, slowly killing your mentality until you yourself become nothing.
You are no longer worthy of a single thought in my clear and beautiful mind.
No more shall your name constrict my vocal cords, restrict my breathing or bring a tear to my eye.
This shall be my last thought of you. My last mention as you are vile and I am happy.
'What a hopeless excuse for a human.'

**THE END

Today I felt worth-less.
Not in the sense that I had nothing
but like I had less of what I was before.

I guess for some this isn't a bad thing
but for me I'm not too sure...

but why when you are a ghost
does no one seem to know?
much less notice, offer a glance
when all you crave
is one word
that you still exist
because lost inside of yourself
it's difficult to see that there is any worth

I would that if you increased
The spoken statements on your mind,
Would be you used this tone with me,
I'd "lop off your head," for better words
Suit me fine, defended by a suit of armor, one
For my own well-minded ears hearing safety,
An armor I deserve for being your king,
Your master, you are my throne even,
I sit on you when I'm sad, and spit on you
When I'm mad. This is it, there's nothing
More to say, you wash your mouth out now,
My "honest perfection" grows day by day.

Face down on the hard concrete, a puddle of blood carries my reflection, as usual. Can't see anything, eyes blinded by tears. Have to get back up, have to finish what id started. My arms disobey my commands to pick myself back up, sore and disabled. **** my head back, kneeling before my superiors. Blinking to clear the tears. Starting to see a figure towering over me. Laying flat on my back, my head pounding. Getting lifted against a wall. Sadness overtakes me. No. Not sadness. Anger. No. Rage. Hate. Insanity. Ripping his skin. He doesn't need all of it. Just a little bit. Screaming. Horrible screaming. Cries for help. Laughing. Break. Crackle. Bone and cartilage grinding. Snapping in between my fingers. He doesn't deserve both of his ears. Black. Silence. Satisfaction. Regret. I'm a monster. Yeah, I am. And I love it.