If only they cared

She's broken -
ripping apart at the seams,
but she cannot be fixed.
Every vein is coming loose,
every freckle is falling off,
every heartbeat is getting harder to hear.
She drifts in and out of reality,
dosing off into the depths of her own world.
Her cries are muffled by pierced lips,
her screams silenced by her thoughts,
her words are ceased with the bite of her tongue.
She listens carefully
to every word that is said in her presence,
trying to catch a single syllable
that will give her hope to stay.
Her scars are the most valuable aspect of her diminishing sanity,
proving that she has only stumbled
rather than giving up entirely.
Every day is a struggle,
a war within the walls of her mind,
seeking refuge wherever she can find it.
Her heart has been shattered
more times than she can count -
feeling the regrets of letting herself fall
into the arms of those who couldn't bear the weight.
Her guilt builds,
feeling like the bandages on others
are a result of her existence.
She stands in front of you,
with a smile curling around her lips,
but if you look three inches north
you will see the absence of life in her eyes.
She is quiet so you will not suspect
that her mind is screaming to be set free.
She is quiet so you will not suspect
that the girl you know is no longer there.

Thinking thoughts of nothing

I'm thinking too much about things that hold too little value. Things that don't matter, probably never have mattered, and never will matter. Things that should have been forgotten in the past, things that never should have been brought into the present. I wonder what ever happened to the little kitten with the kinked tail that my parents wouldn't let me keep when I was eight. I wonder about the couple that my dad alerted when the rat ran past them on the rocks at the water when I was four, and I wonder if they ever got married. If they ever had kids. If he cheated on her with his secretary. If she cheated on him with the neighbor. I think about that one night stand. I think about the reaction you would have had if I told you it was just sex. If I told you that you could go fuck yourself for what you had done to me, but that I wanted to get my rocks off first. I think about your face and how much I wish I could punch you in it. I wonder what would have happened if I was born a boy. I wonder why God or whatever is up there decided that my life had to be this way. Why this way instead of that way. Why I got picked last in gym class every single goddamn time. Why my friends don't care as much as they claim to. Why I can't find the adequate words to describe certain feelings. I wonder if the people that cross my mind now think of me also. I wonder and I wonder and I plead with my mind to stop. I over think every single possible detail and then I beat myself up for coming to the conclusions that I do. I can't keep doing this.

Update I guess

I've always thought that my life would be so much different that it is. To this day it bothers me that my life is so different than I've always wanted... different than I've always dreamed. I've always been so prideful about my independence but I've realized that the independence I used to love so much about myself no longer exists. I for some reason still refuse to accept help even when I know that I need it. I don't even really know what I'm trying to say, to be honest. I'm just scared about the future because of it's uncertainty. I wish I could say that I'm doing the things that I've always wanted to, like holding down a job, or going to school, or living in an apartment and things like that. I feel like I'm still living my life as a kid and I don't want to do that. I want to be the adult that I am and I'm so, so tired of not being able to figure out how to do that. My life has always bothered me, for obvious reasons, but as of lately my life has been bothering me more about the choices that I have been forced into making due to inevitable life circumstances. I've become too aware for my liking about the effects my past has had on my present and in turn my future. Everything is running through my head too quickly. My brain hurts. I can't keep overloading my mind again and again and hoping it won't explode. I'm just so goddamn frustrated.

Your advice is contradicting, sir.

Someone told me I should have talked to you.
I should have grabbed you by the shoulder, or shouted your name,
or pretended to have locked my keys in my car so you'd be give me a ride home,
...or something.
But I didn't and I couldn't and I know I never would -
you are too far from me now and I can't ever reach you again.
Why can't I ask you why you do the things you do?
Why can't I scream at you and plead for you to let your anchor relocate?
You never let me finish.
You walk away too quickly,
you move your lips too quickly,
you close your ears before it's all over.
Oh Darling,
what have you done?
what
have
you
done?
Don't tell me I'm the crazy one,
you don't understand!
You don't get me,
I don't get you,
we don't get each other -
that's the silly part.
Why don't you leave now, hm?
Take your silly laughter and your big grin with your pointy teeth -
take your ego in your backseat to pretend the sins back there don't exist.
Wash your hands of me,
push me down the drain.
Send me to the sewer,
to the ocean,
to space.
I don't want to see you here anymore.
Someone told me I should stand my ground.
Well?
Go on.
Leave me alone.

Update

The last year has been so insanely difficult for me, which was proven to the world in mid-August. Now, it seems more and more things are piling up and I am over-saturated with stress in nearly every aspect of my life. My relationship with my mom is the worst it's ever been, and it's tearing me apart... she doesn't understand the magnitude of how she's hurt me. I miss her so much and I just want things to go back to the way they were... it's literally impossible at this point, though. My living situation with my dad is the worst it's ever been, also. It's preeeetty awesome having both my parental relationships flushing down the drain at the exact same rate... (/extremely obvious sarcasm). I can't keep living with my dad the way it is. I know my dad won't change in any good way, he's trying to move to a new house and refuses to do it while I'm living at home. Well, that would be fine and dandy, but my dad has been looking at new houses for two years now and told me the other day that he almost put an offer down on a house he liked, but didn't because of me. I don't drive, I don't have a job, and I have no money whatsoever. I want to live my life as a 21 year old SO badly and get a job and save up and move out and start my life. My real, true life. I want to do that so freaking badly but I am held back so viciously by the demons that I am plagued with battling every single day for the last 15 years. Living with my dad is pure hell, and it's driving me down even harder every day I stay there. The fights have been building and I'm just waiting for the one that will end with me being kicked out. I am trying not to think about the fact that all five of my grandparents are really ill, and I have done nothing but shove it to the back of my head and I KNOW how horrible that is. I am getting more and more depressed about my weight and I have been falling into more self hatred about it. I have never been as self conscious as I have been over the last few months and I am becoming scarily critical of myself. So much is stressing me out and I need to get away from everything... I need a solid plan but I can't do that with my head being this chaotic.. I'm getting scared for myself again. It's not good when this happens.

Circus of Macabre

The tragedy within me is gripping tightly to my core,
it twists and turns my ragged bones harder than before.
I try to scream and cry for help, but I'm afraid it is no use...
It seems to me, that for years to come, I will endure this same abuse.
The spineless creature that digs his claws is an ugly, hideous beast..
he fills his wine glass with my blood and toasts to his fleshy feast -
He holds his knife to the dinner he craves and presses down so tight,
he quickly and swiftly slices the blade - a beautifully gory sight.
The little leach that sucks away my conscious reasoning
is sick and tired of my constant complaints and has forbidden bartering.
I beg and plead to take control, to pilot my own plane -
but the little leach would rather lead his army to slay the sane.
The thinking man is in his attic alone, writing to pass the time
recording every detail of every memory that he should have left behind.
It keeps him up, wide awake, nighttime doesn't exist in his cave -
his eyes are bloodshot, his hair is gray, he's run out of tears to save.
Lonely citizens of a broken city wander the streets they hate,
seeking shelter, needing nutrition, confused if they're too late -
there's no where to go, or even run, all that's left is to try to hide,
but the alley ways are filled to the top with the ones who have failed to try.
Feeling the pressure on my rib-cage with this circus of macabre below,
keeping distance from those who are only interested in a horror show.
Mastering the art of survival with a gun pressing to my head -
continue this course until the bottomless monster is happily fed.

You were never that almighty

I stand waist deep in the filth of what you've left.
You stand tall, scoffing at the ones below you.
I gave you so much and asked for so little in return,
but all you wanted was to cause destruction -
breaking every last bit of what you could get your hands on.
I thought you were something I could forget,
like the three month old gum on the bottom of my favorite shoes.
But just like that gum, I remember the details of the hatred I have for you.
Holding me back, keeping me down...
you were nothing but bad news with a pretty cover.
I read your sob story, I bathed in your tears.
I held your hand and I kissed your lips.
I waited months on end for the poison to seep out of my veins.
But you kept tempting me with your promises of better days.
Standing here now, I can hear the distant cries of all the others.
the girls; poor, sweet, innocent girls.
Corrupt them, waste them away - just like you did with me.
Who ever told you that you have the right to play God?