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Dieing to be perfect.
But hate being Fake.
Happiness; short in supply.
Hatred; Raging at myself.
I hate to be what i want to be.
Scrambled thoughts; Confusion, Frustration and Lost..
Some-what here; Some-what there
Not completely insane; But losing grip on Sanity.
Happy Pills, Diet Pills, Pills to keep u calm, Pills, Pills, Pills;
I hate them and yet they never let Me down.
Dieing to loved for what i am.
Dieing to be Beautiful.
Something I want is Lost,
Something I need I can't grasp.
Potential Hope slipping through my finger-tips.
Hates what i am, Dieing for Change
Can't get a Grasp on all that isn't delusion.
Twisted, Confused, and Un-sure.
Dieing for someone, Something to show the way.
But know nothing can help.
Longing for security, for help, To be led
Everything negative, Revolving around me.
Ambition, courage, Faith, Hope, Dreams;
At a halt in the Raging Thoughts.
Surrounded, So claustrophobic, Yet so left alone.
Everything and Everyone; I'm unknown
My "own breed"; Only type.
"Am I really that Different? That horrible?"
Hate what i am, characteristics all not what to be Perfect.
Dieing to be perfect, Trapped in my head,
Trapped in a Cage of torment.
Ignore all of this, Put a smile on top;
Like 'With surger and a Cherry on top'..
Pretend I'm fine, And Happiness exsists.
So content with being fake and seeming happy.
But thoughts and feelings,
They aren't surreal.
Always buzzing away in my mine and Heart,
Twisted,
My path split, Turning, whinding, crossing over and over-lapping
The Guiding arrow in my mind Multiplied.
Pointing every which way.
The Guiding arrow in my heart Multiplied
Confusing the scrambled mess beyond Comprehension.
Frustration kicking in.
To much, Can't take it all.
Enough to push any scrap of remaining Sanity and set it ablaze.
Burning into painful ashes, I can't take it anymore.
The rushing thoughts, The scrambled up feelings,
So closed up and bunched together yet so spaced out and left alone.
Frustration; Wanting and dieing to make it stop.
Make it stop?
Have to make it stop.
A stray rushing thought of half-confidence.
A stray rushing feeling of may-be Happiness.
"Suicide?
Could I?
Should I?
I just want it to stop.
Go away!
No!
Come back!?
I'm so lost, So confused!!
..Help me...
HELP ME."
Again, stuck in a scrambled twisted up, ******** Messed up rut of a Cycle of Emotions.
What now? Pretend Again?
Make it seem its okay, Make yourself believe it'll be okay.
More self-induced lies.
So then later when it's to much, It all bursts out in an acidic pop;
Like a over-sized pimple under your hat. Hiding.
Untill everyone seems its discusting acidic juice squirt every where.
Experience says:: No.
Comfort says:: Please, Yes! You know being what you hate is simplest and easiest! Comfortable!
Logic says:: Be Quiet!! I can't frigin' think!
Soul says:: I can't take this.
Self-Pity says:: Coomm'onn. Why not, Your so pethetic, You can't take anything else.
Heart says:: I'm sick and tired of being broken, Just freaking FIX ME!
But Comfort interupts:: But wouldn't you Rather be comfortable then Akward and MAYBE. SLOWLY getting fixed?
Self-Deseat says:: Are you kidding!? YES! YES! Its so much Better this Way! *makes Deseat clones, clones multiply*
Clones at Once Say Different things to make it seem Okay.
Heart and Souls says:: Nuuu!! PLEASE NUU!
Self-pity Gets Jealous and Makes Clones too.
And Soon enough, Everything; in trying to be heard makes Clones,
And Clones and Clones.
And the clones all keep saying different things.
Trying to Yell over one another.
And their all in my little glass body of a Shell bouncing rapidly off one another and off the walls on my Soul's Soul's Heart's Walls inside me.
So what should I do?
I can't get rid of them, and I don't know what to do, I didn't in the begining,
As a matter of a Fact.
I'm lost, confused and Trapped in a Raging mess of emotions and Thought.
whut wud you do.
 forcing myself 2b social · Wed Aug 06, 2008 @ 02:44pm · 0 Comments |
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