yournotalone
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Sometimes the old times start to relive.
Relive until I can’t live.
Can’t live because I’m living in the past waiting for the future.
Born to be unloved.
Made to be broken.
It’s tough love and shoves.
Quick slaps whenever miss spoken.
Made to be broken.
I already sat down. I had inhaled. I had exhaled.
The gun I couldn’t find. Had no time to find a lake so yes I will wait.
My thoughts don’t wait though, but wonder.
The beast is wild,
like a tiger, like a shark.
A predator who feels
hunger and thirst.
She also feels pain and sadness.
Does the beast feel happiness?
Does she feel joy?
Sitting here thinking,
how it all will end.
The razor-sharp edge upon a wrist.
The weight of a gun in a hand,
pressed against a head.
Prepared to end it all.
The pain, the sorrow,
All is calmjust shallow breaths heard.Drip driptime slows down.
Your life fades past like many times before.Only at the end you find yourselfat a different door.
Seventeen years of observing others
Seventeen years of sitting in a corner.
Just watching form a distance or nearby
To the point you start to understand.
Understand others and their action
You say it's better not to know.
It won't get out the window.
I'll never tell,
Until you ring the bell.
The bell of permission.
About your secret mission.
What is there to do?
When the big kids beat up the little ones.
When the little ones were afraid to speak up
to defend themselves or their peers.
No one would say a word
