I went and hid in my bathroom.

Weeping silently, yet not crying.

I looked to my wrists unwornd.

No scars as bracelet rings.

I looked at my body, however.

They say you've won,

Yet I feel defeated.

They say you have accomplished things,

Yet I see nothing worth nothing.

I looked at my body,

Scars of life. Scars of battle,

The battle for life. Fighting.

alwas and always

fighting.

Scars on my body.

Memories of what I've done.

I find myself laying there.

Ideas in the air,

Eyes filled with oceans,

Yet not a single droplet falls.

Too afraid to show weakness,

Too afraid to recognize

That I've been broken.

Broken in two.

Two beings the pieces of

my being, my mind

My conscience and subconscience.

 

Youth called brilliance.

Adolescent called genius.

Teen called smart,

yet not even a man.

And man is mediocre.

Mediocre is less. Less

yet equally sheer.

Sheer mediocrity.

Why not then rise?

Rise forth from mediocrity

to Brilliance?

It's the pain. pain

which hinders me.

I sit up and breath.

Same scars nothing new.

Same body, no mind.

Same thoughts, no vision.

I see my eyes now.

Watery like the sky of

the great blue ocean.

I dry them like the desert I'm in.

Like the soul I have,

I get up and leave.