My afterlife was my hidden pages.
My escape, my lithium, it soothed my bleeding I purposed.
How can anyone understand?
I'm in a place for doomed souls.
I'm only a soul that deserves punishment.
Relying on my writing to tell someone, anyone who will listen.
But only I understand.
They say, "the pen is mightier than the sword"
I just wanted the sword...
A sword to slay through the thick hatred I had for myself.
My own knight in armor to destroy the dragon in the quarters of myself.
It seemed impossible, every "I understand", "I'm sorry", was a lie.
A fake gesture to my face disguised as pity.
A hidden accusation of just wanting attention.
No family, no friend, no outsider saw past that false wall of wanting attention...
Until he came.
He saw something more.
Distraction was his gameplay and just like a winner he claimed his prize.
No shame in what he claimed as his,
No doubts about what was hidden inside the hateful trophy,
All he saw was a lost soul that needed distraction in her life.
Just like a child lost in the classroom of his teacher,
I was lost in the own lesson plan of my life.
Broken off from my dark confusion, I began to see.
I saw the fogging layer of self-challenge that blurred my window to happiness.
My vision peering through the window at last,
I see how a simple seed can bloom into a beautiful masterpiece.
Even if it's coming from out of the fog.
This poem is about:
Poetry Terms Demonstrated: