Victim to a Hopeless FightA Poem by that-little-green-monsterFictional piece.
Eternal sleep,
How wonderful it sounds. Never bothered, With petty mind games, With awful teenage girls. Never outcasted, Feeling horrible about myself. I wonder if I'm still alive? Have I been commended to hell? Trapped in a place where no one cares? Where everyone is happy, When you're in pain? The blade biting in my wrist, Says, yes you can still feel pain. The blood running down my wrist, Says, yes you're still alive, You're not a ghost, You're not in hell. Unless the devil's playing tricks, With my head. But if he is, His tricks are well crafted. I'd prefer the flames, Forever burning me, Over hating myself. The scars on my wrists, Remind me how much they've hurt me, But it's safer not to fight back, Because if I do, I know the words will just get worst. It's hard though, To listen to what they have to say, What new insult they've come up with. They're never really clever, Those pretty little heads, Hurt too much when they think. It's the masses, The number of people against me, That's what makes it hurt. © 2012 that-little-green-monsterAuthor's Note
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StatsAuthorthat-little-green-monsterAboutHello! I am a high school student. I am a thespian and a writer. I hope to pursue a career in a creative field. I believe that words can have affect on people more than we could ever imagine. I don't .. more..Writing
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