"The Escalation"

The first poem I ever wrote

“The Escalation”

By: St. Fugaz

So, you think you know me? No...you only know things about me.  Me, the real me, nobody knows; not my parents, nor my friends, only me myself and God. Who else needs to know? Who else would take under consideration or care about who I really am? Perhaps this is the reason nobody knows the real me...

The red flows, it is the only thing that makes the pain go. The burning on the skin makes you cringe but it takes it all the pain away with just a singe. The beating of your self it is what you deserve you tell yourself, refusing to admit you need help. The drinking, out of your conscious slowly sinking, but when it stops your mind won't stop thinking. The smoking even though it feels like choking, you tell yourself you'll stop but you're just joking. So you wait for someone to tell you you’re wrong, but he never comes along. And you think that it is a never ending strife, but then you find what is right. After a long time of waiting red stops flowing, the burning you stop yearning, for the beating you stop thinking, the drinking you stop needing, and the smoking you learned that it wasn’t all joking, and finally you realize that the man you waited for was here all along it was just blocked by stupidity from all of your irritability. And now that you're done you notice it was just silly and from that day on you think did I really…

You get home don’t let your parents know you’re stoned, getting to your room your honed. Going up the stairs feeling soul scarring stairs. If your parents ever know, then going out would be a no. So you're sneaky, trying really hard because the floor is squeaky. You get to your room to your bed you zoom. Hop in your bed, close your eyes. They make fun of you, but no one knows the reason you do it is to silence your internal cries. The beating in the school makes him feel like he is a fool. The calling of names makes it feel like he is being used for your screwed up games. Because inside it makes you want to die, so you just lay in your bed and start to cry. You think how the hell did I get this way, and now on this earth you don’t want to stay.

Lonely, It’s me and  me only. It feels like and empty well, I feel like a living hell. I get home in my room I groan. I feel like crap like a paper sack blowing through the wind, is it because I sinned, that they treat me like this. I hear their voices echoing in my head they tell me that I should be dead. No I scream , my life is just a bad dream. There was a sudden silence, and  my head it made  to violence. The voices never quiet, it sounds like a riot. I feel alone even when I am at home. It goes in a cycle, I think I get better then I get worse...I feel so much remorse, but I let my life just take it’s course. I go out at night just to silence the voices, with more noises, and making bad choices, I feel so exploited, annoyed, and now I feel deprived, I feel Gods no longer on my side. Why do I live on this earth, what is the purpose, all it gives are remorse's, just to set us on different courses. Now I am ready to make my final choices...

Now I feel down l, pounded into the ground. Didn’t even make a sound, and death is creeping around. All it took was a word, isn’t that absurd. Just one damn word and my life took a curve, all the sudden it is a swerve. They beat me down into the dirt, and now my insides hurt. I feel like hurling because how much I’m hurting. I feel dirty, because they call me nerdy, I use to feel so sturdy, but now I feel like unworthy, and my path is getting  blurry, I beg and plead for mercy. Does no one has any courtesy, because they make me feel unbearable insecurity. I just want to feel I have purity, will no one give me clarity, and save me from my insanity, trust me I know I have peculiarity, but just leave me, me and my unpopularity. I just want back my ability, to feel for my mind to feel stability. This pain that I feel it is just too real. It just isn’t right this finally the end of my fight, I am done. My fight is over, everyone just looked at me just as the thing they had to crossover. I’m done, sorry dad are you still proud of your precious son. I fly to my room, open my closet with a boom and I look at it like I’m entering my own tomb. I grab the rope already falling down the slippery slope. I leave no 1 inch of slack, because I don’t plan on coming back. I get on the chair, at the floor I stare. It is time to the world I say good-bye…

Author's Note

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