Screaming at the Edge of A Cliff

Spoken word thing that I've been needing to write. Venting session really.

Standing on the edge of a cliff, with the wind kissing my face, telling me to fill it with my screams.  Fill it with all the frustrations and anger I've kept inside, all the things I've never let die.  Open my arms wide...for once, it's okay if I cry....And open my mouth and scream.

Screaming at the edge of a cliff for all of the great things I've missed over the years as I lived in that sick hellhole of a house.  Separated from the things that turned out to be a part of the real me.  Screaming at the edge of a cliff for all the beatings my sister and I took for just - wanting to - f*****g - LIVE!!  Live like those normal kids around us who could be with friends most any time they wanted to and were rewarded for the good things they did with more than just praise.  Screaming like I did the one time I finally fought back against my father's stupid comments about how I should be just like him.  Only to have him put his hands on my neck, ready to take my life.  Screaming that he should just - f*****g - do IT! 

Screaming at the edge of a cliff for all the nights alone in my prison of a room with countless tears rolling down my face like rivers, keeping my sobs silent so I am not discovered.  Screaming as I wanted to then.  No one ever knew how angry I'd been then.  How badly I wanted to die.  How badly I needed to escape.  No one helped me!  No one fought for me!  There was nothing but music and tears! Shadows and fears!  Nothing!  I was the most deserving.  Selfish as it may seem.  But, she got help!  She escaped!  The girl who barely tried to do right.  The girl whom daddy quietly favored and let her have what she wanted to more extensive measures than me.

Screaming at the edge of a cliff because I'm the one who always gets left behind.  Because I'm the one no one cares about.  Because it is so very true that no one really cares until you die.  No one cares until suicide steps into the light or cuts appear on arms.  It's even worse that my own parents can't ever accept me for who I really am.  They would never understand.  They never saw all the pain I had to withstand from them, other kids, teachers, even myself.  None could ever accept and understand an emo girl except those like her.  

Screaming on the edge of a cliff just like my bands do in their songs that speak to me in ways no one ever has.  Because no one accepts them just like no one accepts me.  People only hear the screaming, not the meaning.  Those bands are my loves, my sources of life, my lights in the darkness, and my voices.  "The voices for the voiceless".  Many like me have lost all heart in finding any other good in life besides the men in those bands.  The people who keep them alive.  Some believe that the darkness has embraced them and they, it.  Believe that their souls are gone because, they've had enough of life.  Maybe they need to take their turn with a cliff to scream from.  Scream their pain to the world like I wish I actually could.  But, even then...people would only hear the screaming, never the meaning.

Author's Note

Not angry at present. Just been wanting to write something like this for awhile. Got mad the other day and listened to "Hospital For Souls" by: Bring Me The Horizon and suddenly heard a few lines of this in my head. Then, began writing it. (side note: quote in last paragraph came from "Vertigo" by: Dream on Dreamer.

Reviews

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A very emotive piece! You convey your meaning effectively. I just wanted to mention one other thing:

"like those normal kids around us who could be with friends most any time"
Correct me if I'm wrong, but this may not be grammatically correct. Did you mean "almost" instead of "most"?

[Tessa Melendez]

That is actually grammatically correct. It's just a bit of old-fashioned English. That's probably why you feel weird reading it.

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Ok sorry about that then. Still sounds awesome