I don't know why we continue to love people who hurt us;
I don't know much of anything, dear.
I just close my eyes from time to time,
and simply pretend I'm not here.
It's easier to pretend;
I've been doing it since age 9.
When will it all end?
This thing called time.
Well, technically time is not existent,
honestly neither am I.
My invisibility shines fluorescent,
nothing will really change when I die.
Mama might feel a tear drop now and then,
brother might drink his life away until he's not him.
I've realized this at age 10,
for life is not as great as we could make it.
like an acronym,
some abbreviate their life because they just can't take it.
We all cope differently.
Whether it's reaching for the liquor on the shelf,
or putting paint on a canvas.
Alas;
I'm not saying I'm going to **** myself,
(I really despise that term)
for people are only stopping the pain.
Stopping the pain from relapsing.
For some just feel like a worm in the rain.
Like the world, they're collapsing.