#self-blame
i could have done something different
i could have done something better
i could have helped you
i could have saved you
i could have taken your pain
worn it on my shoulders
and took your burdens for you
i could have wiped your tears away
poured the ***** down the drain
locked up the shotgun
and sang you to sleep
only in the morning you would still be there
i could have done something different
i could have done something better
i could have been there for you
i could have fixed what made you hurt
and made you forget about it
i could have held your hand
let you cry to me
soothed your aching heart with comforting words
and taken you away from everything
that changed you
maybe if i did
you would still be here
the same mistakes of idleness
and the same outcome
the same sharp sorrow and tortuous guilt
the same irreplaceable loss that i couldn’t stop
the same **** words that float in my head
enough times that i convince myself they’re true
i could have done something different
i could have done something better
and because i didn’t
i’m the only one left to tell myself that
Feb 28, 2015
Feb 28, 2015 at 6:57 PM UTC
we both watched them run until their bodies became to frail to function
they wore themselves out and broke themselves down into nothing
we behaved as if bystanders to some gruesome accident in the making
powerless in our capability to rescue,
but burdened with the weight of survivor’s guilt all the same
we both watched them run faster than we could keep up with
their arms pumped by their sides, their elbows shoving us away
we called out to them, we screamed:
"aren’t you getting tired yet?"
but our words were lost in the dust they created
we both watched them run farther away from us,
farther away from the unknown they were searching for so desperately
we both watched them run until there was nothing left to see
Feb 28, 2015
Feb 28, 2015 at 6:41 PM UTC
mediocrity isn’t
something to be strived for
and being a nonentity isn’t
a relief of pressure
it’s heavier than any weight
that could be strapped to your back,
larger than any expectations
you delude yourself into thinking you must meet
emptiness fills
more than you would think
your feeble body on the ground
stirs no pity in me
i hope the steel-toed boots
striking you from every direction
leave bruises that last
i hope the stench of your rotting flesh
gags you and brings up the lack
of what you hold inside
i hope old scabs are ripped open again
and your hands lay weak by your side
unable to stop the flow of blood
let me hear you say that you are nothing,
that you have nothing valuable to offer
let me hear you say that you are a waste of space,
an unwanted burden
let me hear you cry and plead for an end,
although you don’t deserve that escape
i want to hear you say that you’re a murderer
i want you to go back:
look into his eyes
watch them dilate with fear
and then see the light leave them
feel his blood on your hands
leaving a permanent mark
that doesn’t wash off under water
feel his body turn cold
as the life inside him stops
with his heartbeat
your sniveling apologies do nothing
but turn my stomach over
don’t touch me,
i don’t care if the blood is gone
being a nonentity isn’t
a relief of pressure
i hope you never get away
from that weight
Feb 28, 2015
Feb 28, 2015 at 6:36 PM UTC