Poems For The Broken

Reality by: HeyThereGarbageCan

>All my friends
and their unhealthy addictions-

with the cigarette smoke
escaping their mouth

and the cuts hidden
under their sleeves

and the moans they make
while looking for "love" in a dark place

and I know it's a way to escape,
and, believe me, I'd like to escape, too;
but I can't, because it would be a smudge
on my already mixed-up existence.

I'd have to face it in every thought,
and that's the problem-
the smudge, the mistake, I can stand;
it's my existence that
I have a problem with.

I can talk about myself,
that's fine-

I can tell you my likes and dislikes,
that's fine-

but looking at myself in my thoughts
disgusts me.

It's a strange idea, I know
but my existence is like a flaw
among the entire perfect universe,
which is so full of life and interesting things-

things I love to look at,
except I hate looking at me.

And I'm lost-
because even dying wouldn't solve the problem
I could exist forever and ever
in Heaven or Hell
or purgatory
or whatever there is
and I'd still be me.
I'd still be,
and that's the problem.

I'm stuck,
and it's a terrible reality to face

because I can't erase any of it