oftentimes it feels 

as though I've failed

a multitude of ships 

horizons, gone, sailed

as here, in my struggle 

the twisting and bends

flounders in mazes built

of burning bridge ends

peripherally, all is see

are brash celebrations

success and perfection

'neath joy exclamations

i study scuffed shoes

reflected years refuse

undermine all of it

rust tint glasses muse

it's finite, I know that

yet all seems forever

how easy would it be

to float free 

                          untether

Love is nothing but a word

It doesn't exist

For years i was made to believe it does

But as i grow older

It's nothing but

great dissapointments and heartaches

All is just pain

A short term happiness

                                                               I

                                                          Would

                                                     Rather receive

                                                 A severed limb, if it

                                                    Meant you got

                                                         A paper

                                                            Cut

                                                                and

                                                                       nothing

                                                                           in

                                                                    return 

I've been told

so

many

times

to: 

-Pick myself up

-Rise above

-Try again

But what the hell

do you do

when you've been on the ground

all your life.

Today was the first time in a long time

That I considered killing myself.

Who would miss me?

Who would wish they has something sweeter the last time we spoke?

Who would weep, who would mourn, who would notice my absence...?

The questions swirled around in my head

As tears welled up in my eyes.

It's been raining for four days

And that is how I feel inside

There are flash flood warnings echoing in my heart

And my spirits levies have broken,

There is nothing to keep the rushing waters of despair at bay.

Am I really precious to anyone,

Or is that just what they tell me to get my clothes off?

Am I wise or am I just as foolish as the rest?

If I just drove my car off the road, no one would know

And the flames would burn away my scars.

But my heart would never stop being cold

It would never stop aching

And I'm not sure that death is or is not the answer to my dilemma..

The dilemma of my own humanity.

It is a beautiful travesty.

The beating of a heart, the flowing of blood

The breaking of bones, and the closing of eyes.

There is a journey that I am on, one that I don't feel strong enough to complete.

What if I fail at the journey just like I have failed to sleep at night or keep the demons quiet while I try to pray to a God I was taught exists but am not sure actually does. Belief has been beaten into me. Belief is a burden. Salvation is a scar I wear like a scarlet letter. My chest is exposed and some say that it is sinful, but it is only flesh, flesh that covers my heart. The thing they claim is both a wellspring of life and wicked and deceitful...

I drove, fast and reckless, only obeying the speed limit of my emotions. I don't want to hurt anymore. I don't want to wonder if I am a saint or a sinner. I don't want to wander around playing lost and found with my own destiny. I don't want to hate, or hurt, or care, or be twisted up inside of myself anymore.

I made it to the house I flippantly call home. I was safe, but not saved. I was still everything I hate being - a broken beautiful girl who hates herself for faking wholeness and smiling through the tragedy of a life un lived.

-AshleyAnne