Self Pity

When I was a kid, I wanted to be

Jackie Chan, Johnny Depp, Bruce Lee

But I was told by my parents, relentlessly...
I couldn't kick as high, box as hard, run as fast, be the guard

So I never tried...

But is it their fault that I quit?
It sure as s**t isn't why I sit in

Self pity...

When I was young, yet old beyond my years,

Mature enough to question motives,
Too immature to speak out loud...

I started down a path, I'm still not sure.

If it was mine, it wasn't in my control..

But, I can't make out if it's what I'm about,

Is it why I still live in self pity?

When I was nine, before he died...
I asked my dad, if I could learn to fight
The second biggest argument I've ever lost...

-After how he thought evil was goth...

He used to scrub tattoos with wire,
Living by sadistic wits in the imperialistic prison choir

Is that why I drink myself dead, drowning in my bed...

Is it still why I eat my self pity for bread?

When I was thirteen,
I was (not for the first or last time) assaulted

I still believed It was all my fault, yet

Somewhere inside, I was angry,
A thousand burning words stopped by

Authority, a million violent tendencies churning,

With no intention, no purpose...
Nothing besides my own disturbance..

Is that why I breathe my self pity?

When I was fourteen, I was that freak

The one with the cut up arms and the unearned right to die

I guess I wasn't really violent, the alternative was suicide

Is that why I still swim in self pity?

When I turned fifteen, the method was clean

I'd done my research and planned out the entire thing,

It turns out Benadryl is great to solve problems,

The ones too great to really solve them.

I spent two weeks, half dead in the ICU,

Two more weeks in an institution.

Is that why I still survive in self-pity?

I just turned eighteen, I'm about to leave,
To what to me, seems to be, a foreign country.

I still have a tinged soul and an unhinged mind,

Working their way through every loophole in life.

Dead-set on dying having lived,

But I'm to scarred to live and too scared to die

So here I sit, booking a plane, getting a ticket,

So I can fly out of my self-pity

And if you were to ask me,

No- I won't miss it.
Is it just another way for me to fight,

For my own self pity?

Reviews

[Lavi]

Fighting is a way to find ourselves. Self-pity? I think it's more soul-searching. Other people can call it what they want but you've been the one fighting all this time. Losing and winning, but still moving on. Fight, flight, so long as you move on, and find your way. Self-pity wouldn't get on that plane, self-pity wouldn't escape the country that's wronged you, self-pity would make you sit through it all like a drowned dog, shivering and unable to move. So, I don't think this is self-pity. People who pity themselves don't have the courage to fight back.
Such a powerful and ferocious writing and force of will.

[Indra's Child]

Thank you. Wow you made me feel awesome haha.
Though I might be biased, I think that was a great review. Boop booooop

[Lavi]

You're welcome. Biased or not I love leaving/hearing feedback anytime. Thank you for sharing :D

[Oliver Lee]

"I'm too scarred to live and too scared to die" f*****g genius
I loved everything about this poem. All of your work is so freely written and raw to the bone. I loved this so much, dude.

[Indra's Child]

Thanks, haha
I'm not in much of a state to be giving counter-feedback, in all honesty I'm going through a bit of a withdrawal...
Apparently I absorbed something through my skin I wasn't supposed to and I'm paying the price lol
Was not my intention... But thank you for the review, always appreciate it man.

[Oliver Lee]

that's a whole a*s mood

[Oliver Lee]

oh, also feel better

[Indra's Child]

Thanks lol