The Stories Inside Her

This Is

This is the book I wrote, that holds all the words that turn into every sorrow I've eternally felt. This is the book that defines what I think is painful. This is the book I hid when writing. For me of all people knew that every sentence makes you hurt inside... 

Showing the pain that's so intense it makes people scared. But in the darkest hours of my life, I shall keep writing because it makes me feel better & isn't my goal in life is to identify what makes me a tad bit happier? Nevertheless, I must leave I can't do this anymore...I feel like my blood is going to freeze over in my veins. I'm so bitter. Wanting to scream, I silently whisper to myself that it's okay. 

After all, beautiful things can come from the darkest of pains even if it's someone as broken as me? Who can't be fixed...Thus I sit there without trying to warm myself...I let my mind explore the infinite thoughts that lay inside my head. Perhaps I can create something that is beautiful. That must be the reason why I let my heart keep beating. Why my mind lets my hands write down all these words to be creative. 

Though if I'm honest with myself the real reason I stay and keep walking this earth is that some part of me wants to see what I will create. What I will break, to live to read another book & see what I become of. Oh, how I do fancy reading a book and wish to read as many books till my expiration date hits me. I know my family can't take the pain if I was no longer being a breathing person on earth...

So I shall keep existing. Even if I wanna leave this feeling that's flaming through my soul. This pain is growing like wildfire inside me burning & cracking through my chest. Turning all I see in shadows and darkness. It seems that as I enter their lives everything I touch burns into smoldering embers of ashes, no matter whose life I attach myself to. 

Forever I shall evermore be caught up in this life. I write my sorrow and maybe a few wildflowers of joyful memories and I don't anticipate much to become of what I write. I doubt many people could go through the first paragraph without letting a rumbling heartbroken cry.

 A cry that trembles and shivers throughout their body as they shut the book with the urge to conceal it. For each time I lay my raw emotions out into heart-aching stories, with every word that is prepared for others to read. To live to feel the pain that I feel. I end up dying inside over and over again as I fake a twisted and cruel smile to the world.

The End