Lostprinc3 - Running Around The Garden

I am my family. I am my mothers drunken rage. The one she can’t explain. Her voice still ringing in my ears. Loud and clear. I am my fathers disappointment. The one he never wanted and never perceived. And he vanished, just like my shadow does on a cloud filled day. I am my sisters mind. Her childish thoughts and her loud voice, laughing and begging, and screaming and crying. I am my wounds left open to rott and I am my scars, the ones that leave never ending memories. I am my family.

‘ordinary’ flirting doesn’t work on me.

tell me how obsessed you are with me.

tell me how you worship the ground i walk on.

tell me how i matter more to you than anyone else in this world.

tell me the things you’d do just to be with me.

if you don’t stroke my ego or share my obsessive nature then you have no value to me.

Ache is a shrew residing in my chest. She burrows, she festers, she radiates until her scent intertwines with my organs, until each breath, each beat of my heart is reminiscent of her.

Ache claws at the delicate pink satin surrounding my ribs; she does not care that my blood begins to run.

I howl to an empty room, "Tell me where to put the pain, Tell me where to put the pain, Tell me where to put the pain."

The shrew whispers back, "It will be okay", but she does not tell me how to care for her, nor does she relent.

I met god at a bus stop. She was dragging on her cigarette and sitting on a cold bench. The bench still covered in writings from previous ones. Her mascara was running down her face, her runny nose almost as red as the tip of her cigarette, and her chipped nails scratched open her skin. As she looked at me, I swear I could see the whole world in her eyes, just as it is. Broken and damned. Under her finger nails laid the dirt and in her eyes pooled her tears, forming oceans. I could feel her staring at me and judging me. It was that night I realized, that god is every teenage girl.

My life is just so silly.. I am sitting on my bed in the psych ward, trying to figure out which dried flower I should put in my journal, while I am drinking the cheapest earl grey tea I could find in the supermarket… so silly