A/N: This is one of the few works on my site that is based on my life, and it is a struggle to overcome. Thank you for reading.
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Spoiled in love and attention,
I used to dream I only mattered,
When in reality,
My breathing body made no difference.
Succumbed to the sickness of words,
I fell into the depths of despair,
Trapped and useless,
I sat there taking in their lies as truths.
Silly little girl,
I have the mind of a child,
Wherever they were,
There I'd pester them until they grew tired.
Sent and received letters of hate,
I threw into the fire,
Crying at the horror of my ways,
I had brought this upon myself.
Sickening the only relationship I could ever have,
I am incapable of love,
Confined to being a parasite,
Attached on the hearts of friends.
Severing ties to find some relief,
I beg them to move on,
Because I am not worth it,
I am not fit for their sympathy.
Shielding myself from the pain,
I gulp and stare into the mirror,
At this worthless and indifferent girl,
The speck I am in this world is not important.
Seeing their happiness when I'll be gone,
I know they will forget me,
Nobody remembers the girl who didn't matter,
I am nothing to them.
Somehow it'd be better if I didn't exist,
I know that to be true,
For they know how to accept and forget,
Unlike me.
Solving the mystery of my own murder,
Is something I intend to do,
Before I find myself upon the clouds,
Wait... it won't matter if I say goodbye.
Will it?
YOU ARE READING
Solving the Mystery to My Own Murder
PoetryA collection of poems of what goes on in my head. Some are self-hate filled, some are love-filled, some are based on my other works, what is going on in the world and my life... Some are relate-able, some are weird, but either way, I kind of hope y...
