Insecurities

I am…Exhausted. My face sore, from the plastic smiles, getting my lips to form those two syllables never filled with honesty. “I’m fine.”

The definition of fine is of high quality; worthy; admirable. I know I’m neither of those yet people pretend I am.

I am... fragmented, splintered, crushed. Damaged beyond recovery. Unwanted because my attacks of convulsions tend to send humans in the other direction.

I am…finished with your looks of pity.

For I am not some lost puppy looking for a home

I am a woman with an attitude who is fed up with being walked upon

Tired of the guy and his desperate attempts to change my status to hoe instead of that girl who kept her virginity.

Tired of that fake bitch who constantly compliments you, yet when you turn your back she’s rolling her eyes that pop out of her face making her resemble an ant from a bug’s life making the gesture easy to catch like her brain

Tired of people assuming that they know who I am. 

I am the girl who was painted with black and blue splotches.

I am the girl’s whose uncle was too touchy.

I am the girl afraid to indulge in her feelings of passion unless it’s with a pen in hand and a piece of paper under her abstract painted fingers.

I am the girl who pretends all is right with the world when her little brother is going through his first beating. One that I blame on myself for not being there to protect him.

I am the the girl seconds from breaking.

I am a walking time bomb waiting to explode. Please back away I’m no longer safe. My rage is finally riding on edge preparing to take the leap into a sea of despair.

Please help me I’m a danger to myself. I am the hero saving everyone else. But who is saving me?