I’m dying and it’s your fault.

 

My heart beats to my own drum, or so I thought

 

I remember being scarred and molded into thinking things were okay

 

My body’s weak and I’m disgusted with the slightest blot

 

It’s more than just a scrap of dirt to scrape off

 

My mind bleeds at night with thoughts that give me the unability to cope with and have a slight feeling like I’ve been shot

 

 

You’re going to try to save me, but you don’t realize it’s peircing my weak heart

 

I can’t bear what you decide to throw at me anymore

 

All you’ll ever see is a sweet, innocent Christian girl, but I’m just a broken socket

 

No longer do I see where I belong and it haunts me feeling like I’m nothing, and it’s true

I’ve just decided to shut the door

 

I can hold the key for only so long before I break the passageway between me and my dream

 

I feel full of defects; nothing but a stupid reject as I lie across the floor

 

 

I’ll scream, shout, and cry; but you’ll ignore me or say I’m not worth the time it takes to repair

 

You put your gripped up rubber on my face as you pin me with words like; ‘ugly’ ‘disgrace’ or ‘shameful’

 

You throw your red fury-full fist into my purple pummeled cheekbones and don’t dare save me the despair

 

You stab my heart repeatedly and rip me of all stability; but it’s alright, I see who you are now

 

You claw, you shout and you rip the passion out of my soul; and while you’re at it you grind up the last hope I have left, right in front of the eyes that scream their last prayer

 

You shove me into the dirt and drag my soul across it as if I am nothing, with no mercy

 

I feel like slowly I’m fading, dying and you’ve shaken all that is left

 

 

 

 

My heart races begging for you to leave me alone; but you think I’m just so unworthy

 

I’m dying, I used to think I was mental little did I know it was YOU

 

You’re ripping me from the inside out, cutting me off from my knees, and you create the atmosphere that shapes me to constantly feel nervy

 

You’ve grappled the last of me; and when you ask for my name, it’ll be a deep, darkened shame

 

I’ll be gone and when you ask “Why what was wrong?!” They’ll answer and say, “She died for being weak, and alone full of exhaust. It was the fault of the supposed “love” that surrounded her.”

 

 

I’m dying, and for all I know I’m almost dead. You’ve killed me society, loved ones, and this supposed thread I hung onto. You’ve killed me with my ego and all that was left. So when I say I am dying. Just know I blame your actions, your fists, your shoes, your words, and your lips you cursed me with. By all means I don’t blame you, but I am dead, and swallow it up; because unfortunately it is true. It was time, I cut it, and hung up my thread.