If I Believed In God I Would Ask Him Why He Did This To Me.

If I believed in god I would ask him why he did this to me.

But I do not.

If I believed in myself I would ask me how I let this happen.

But I do not

Pic via pinterest

You were like the sea

The delicate intimacy of you visiting my dreams. Only then I get to see you.

The sea, with all its hurricanes, all its storms. It reminds me of you.

Watching you fall in love and out of love. But never with me.

You were like the sea, with all its stillness. And all its peace.

My intense longing for you to stay. So hopeless yet so ardent.

Because just like the sea you were. Always changing yet so persistent.

he called me neurotic

but what i think he really meant

was that the roots of my anxiety

are growing deep within my head

-

sometimes my thoughts run far

away, escape all rhyme and reason

the seeds of logic overthrown

by the fruits of anxious seasons

-

i just take my time to breathe

and think up a solution

i take a minute and i trawl

through the depths of this pollution

-

poison planted in my mind

by words and dirty looks i catch

in a net of pure self hate

in which fearful thoughts hatch

-

he called me neurotic

and sure, ill take it on the nose

my garden of fear and self hate

truly needed that last rose.

-

(photo via)

I wish I was religious so atleast I could pray to something.

But I talk to god and the sky is empty.

For nothing can restore my faith,

This is not the world I wish to live in.

I wish I was what my parents wanted me to be.

But I look in the mirror and I am empty.

Nothing can restore my self,

This is not the body I wish to be in.

I scream and cry and yell at you to have given me this life.

Birthed me ugly,broken,tarnished and useless.

Ruined me and made me hate myself.

But what right do I have to blame you or anyone else?

For no one has been as cruel to me,

As I have been to myself.

You didn't ruin me; I just hate myself.

The grave that I call my home

Where love doesn't exist.

The monster that I call my father

For whom peace doesn't exist.

The demon that I call my mother

For whom compassion doesn't exist.

The nightmare that I call my world

For which I dont exist.

The despair that I call myself

For whom joy doesnt exist.

The curse that I call my life

Where living doesn't exist.

Alternate universe

In an alternate universe

I am 14 and alone in my room

And my hands havent harmed myself yet