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ConfusionHow should I feel?
For the amazing friends I have,
For the family that supports me?
For the people I've lost,
For the life I don't want?
I've been going back and forth on this....
Would removing myself from here,
Be running away from my problems?
Or solve them?
Is this truly better,
Or for everyone else?
I may not show my emotions,
To the people I see everyday,
But that doesn't mean that I don't feel,
This swirling, twisting confusion....
A weird, random,
Hung up on the past, emotional,
And I wouldn't have it any other way.
I know who I am,
I know what I need,
I just don't know if this is right...
What Am I?What am I?
Have I developed the very thing I have feared,
The trait I'm running from?
My whole body has turned to ice,
While everything I touch,
Bursts into flames.
Have I gone insane?
Am I now unstable,
Must I live in isolation to protect,
Those I care about?
So many things,
So many things are wrong.
How am I supposed to be a better person,
When I can't even hold my feelings in?
I used to have an abusive personality,
I used to...
At least that's what I think....
I'm still the pessimistic one,
I'm still socially awkward,
And I'm still hurting the people I care about.
What am I?
LeaveWould it just be better,
To leave all of these memories behind,
To be able to start a new life?
It would be good,
I would finally be able to stop crying,
At least about the pain and cruelty given to me,
And I'd be able to live my life,
Share my thoughts, and just have fun,
Without having to worry about,
Whether I'll have to deal with hell at home.
I would be leaving the friends,
That I've become so close to,
And I would never again,
Call this place home...
While the price for leaving,
Is my friends,
The benefit is something that may,
Solve these problems that have tortured me,
For so long...
So how can one start a change,
For the better?
WhyWhy do you do this to me!
You've raised me to stand my ground,
And now you degrade me,
For your own strength!
You may deny,
What I'm observing,
To be so true,
But you are torturing me.
Going back and forth;
While you bare horns;
Weaving stories of lies;
Your own child,
Look like a monster;
I try and stand my ground,
And protect your son,
From you and your monster.
Let me correct my self,
You and your monsters
Your monsters of,
So tell me mother,
Why do you do this,
To your own daughter?
When will you see my pain?
LatreuophobiaI wash off sick-sweet orange lipstick in front of a mirror as dusty as gothic romances. It tastes like oblivion, that is to say, like nothing my tongue can detect.
The door opens with a creak no private restroom could emulate. Some chick with blue bobbed hair and smeared eyeliner. I looked like that once. Ten years ago.
Getting the beer out of my hair is harder. Some men just can't take it when I'd rather they not kiss my feet or call me an angel or-
“Dayum girl, you look like a goddess.”
I gulp, taste of acid.
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