self-infliction

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  • Anger

    self-infliction

    the world never wanted this.
    but the people did.
    they shoved her down.
    and told her to breathe deep.
    she tasted their hatred.
    the disgust that whispered in her ear.
    so ugly and dumb.
    you would never amount to anything.

    and from this murder came the destruction.
    the destruction she brought upon herself
    in order to achieve the perfection
    she would never have.
    and so she began to burn
    under her own intensity
    to become everything she wasn't.

    the people kicked her.
    spit flew from their mouths
    as they shouted out her failures.
    such a stupid being,
    she took up their air,
    each time she breathed.
    a waste of life
    she turned to the red candies
    that lay spread out upon her gray carpet.
    and each one she took
    moved her farther away from them.
    and closer to the life she wanted.
    her self-inflicted death.

    a wish.
    it was just a simple wish.
    she wanted nothing more
    than to be worthy of love.
    just a stupid, hopeless wish.

    but the people returned.
    now she wasn't anything.
    they shoved her down,
    under darkened water.
    and ordered her to inhale.
    and she breathed in the salty hell
    they left for her.
    and so there she stayed
    as everyone went home,
    where perfection was lined up
    on shelves,
    and laid out on plates.

    she wanted one thing.
    just one simple,
    pathetic,
    hopeless,
    thing.

    but she was nothing.
    a candy filled nothing.
    and so she stayed there.
    and no one came.
    ever.
    no one ever comes back.



    im still waiting.

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    Tomarra commented on self-infliction

    02-26-2009

    Hey just out of curiousity... do you really believe your nothing in this world??? I feel the same way, that is y I consider myself the invisible ghost that haunts all those who ever cared about me cuz I feel like I cause all the heartache and pain to them.

    Phoenix9 commented on self-infliction

    01-15-2009

    very well written,a favorite

    Poetry is not the expression of personality but an escape from personality.

    T. S. Eliot (1888-1965) American-English poet and playwright.

    HoudinisDancer’s Poems (13)

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