the bargaining

dying days

I told you I wanted fresh roses at my grave every year whenever I die but what does it mean when I feel like I'm dying inside?
feel like I've been dead for years
walking in this body for nothing.

going through this world with all this chaos on my shoulders
I feel trapped.
trapped in a life I can't escape
trapped in a body I didn't even make.

where's the end?
I tried so many attempts
It never works or I never go through with it
what's stopping me?

I can't even love without being hurt
I can't even love without being so mental about it.
I'm a weird person. I mean I try not to be but people don't seem to get me.
If I get stopped in the streets, at those times I know I will panic.
I panic because I'm scared of what people might say to me.

what do I do?
how do I fix this?
how do I feel?

it's funny to me that this world has become so accustomed to pain and hurting people, making you feel less than.
I feel less than all the time
I'm not enough
that's what I tell myself.

that's why I write.
I write because all of the poison in my mind needs to be released.
If I don't get it out then the poison will consume me
and it already has to a certain extent.

I don't know where I go from here
but I'm trying to figure it out.

the pain lasts
will I ever get over the pain?
or will the pain be with me until my dying days?