They want the scars on my skin to become the words on the page.
I woke up knowing that I would never be enough,
That I could try, I could struggle
But I would never win.
No one would ever want me
I was born inherently unworthy
Left empty on purpose to never be filled
To search and scrape inside myself for asylum and find
To break at the hands and fists of others
Searching for some kind of reason
I will never find.
They sent me to create what they wanted
Left me with this desire to write
But is the pain worth the process?
Did I starve myself for years to give you something to analyze?
I look for myself on the page because it’s the only chance I have but
I’m not there.
Only the bits and broken pieces that can be formed into words
Not the feelings, not the hurt, not the emptiness I feel day after day
How can you express that?
How can you share your loneliness with anyone except the darkness
That you drown in
When the only fuel is fire but the rain will put you out.
Where do you go?
What star do you follow when everything you see is black
How can you let someone love you when you know you’re not worth it?
How can you give yourself to someone when there is nothing to give
You carry these broken shards of self around in a sack
Terrified to offer anyone a piece because you’ve got no blood left to bleed
Do you even begin to apologize to your parents
Or is it their fault?
How can you know exactly where you are and be so lost you feel trapped
Trapped in the very world that tells you