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Array
(
[sid] => 77323
[catid] => 1
[aid] => mick
[title] => Love Always
[time] => 2004-12-26 17:16:48
[hometext] => Revised. Long in appearance.
[bodytext] => You can pretend that you’re worried I know what you’re going to say. You’re thinking that I’m B r e a k i n g Slowly falling into pieces, Watching as you stand, S l o w l y p u l l i n g The scarlet wool atop my eyes; Blinding me to everything, Except your mock sincerity. You claim I’ve convinced myself, Of all of the worst things. Let me tell you. I. Don’t. Need. Convincing. Who needs convincing when The truth Stares Back at you Every day Through misty eyes? I’m doing much better now than I ever was. I struggled so strongly These past few months Drowning in my own: Fear. Hurt. Anger. Insecurity. While you stood by, Watching, Pointing, Laughing. Oblivious. You say I’m gradually getting lost now? Where were you back then, When I needed you most? I began not feeding myself, And what for? To compensate for the attention I was Starved For? The love? I began destroying my body, Painstakingly gradually, And nobody noticed. Not a damn soul. I wanted to make myself beautiful, So maybe I could be noticed, And maybe then I would Deserve The attention. But then I saw. I saw the words of those who cared enough to Say something; Anything! To dissuade me from the choices I was making. I saw their power, Their knowledge, Their Strength. And it gave me strength. The strength to stop, Before I was too far gone. I was becoming the thing I hate. And nobody even cared. Not my friends. Not my family. You know who noticed? Strangers. Complete, Utter, Strangers. But somehow, I feel (Closer) To them Than those who walk around me, Day by day. Don’t even try to make this better now. Don’t. Even. Try. You can’t make this up to me. Not until I make it up to myself. I make take months Or even years But I will make it up to myself. I punished myself, And for what? For who? For the ones who I love Who don’t love me In return? The ones who are family, By blood, And blood alone? They claim to love me, But it’s lies. I know. Oh, I know. They mock me. Tease me. Break me A little bit at a time. Destroying my confidence. Feeding my self-doubt. When I do get a kind word or two, It makes me think. Is it even merited? No. Not for me. For the pretty girl down the street, maybe. But, surely, Not me. I’m unworthy. Is insecurity, As well as low self-esteem, Genetic? I pray not. I’d rather die Than expose my (supposed) future children To the mind-blistering pain Of self-doubt. Maybe if I were stronger I’d be safe. Maybe I’ll run away, Travel to a town South of here, Somewhere that I need to be strong. Someplace where my only friends Are my shadow, And my reflection. Sometimes I don’t think the person Staring back at me Through cloudy blue eyes Is quite as strong As I need her to be. And sometimes she isn’t. But sometimes, Sometimes she can Surprise you. But sometimes she is weak. She feels she has to get away. She’s nothing but a hassle. She’ll find her fortune, Her treasure, Someplace else. Buried deep with a golden chest. Locked behind a white picket fence. The treasure, of course, being the Best prize One can be given. A lover’s heart. Maybe I can run away, To a lonesome town, And find the missing piece. The love I need, So Desperately. I won’t come back. I’ll run, Far, And, Fast, And not even look back. Not once. I’ll not leave a forwarding address, And I won’t write. No emails. No letters. No phone calls. Not a single peep. How would you feel then? I won’t even say goodbye, Unless I’m feeling especially giving. If I do, Maybe I’ll leave a note. It can read: “I hate to say goodbye. Wait, No. I don’t. I’m ecstatic. I’m finally getting out! I’ll be free! Freedom, who knew it could taste so sweet? It’s like… melted honey. S m o o t h and s i l k y. If I had known it was so wonderful, I’d have left long before. The first time you hurt me. Yes, this is your fault. It’s not me. It’s you. I hate this whole goddamn town. Be proud, Knowing that I’m gone Because of you, And all our friends. I’ll never think of you anymore, Once I step off of my train Or my bus Or my plane – However the hell it is I’m getting out. Once I’m gone, so are you. I’ll never think of you again, As I start up my new life, My new identity. You’ll be forgotten, but not gone. Ironic, isn’t it? I was always in that position, but now it’s your turn. The tables have turned, And I am the winner. Love always, Your Little Miss-Take.” And you know what? I’d not be lying. I try not to make promises that I can’t keep, And this would be one promise that I would be Certain To keep. [comments] => 0 [counter] => 171 [topic] => 61 [informant] => blackmarker [notes] => [ihome] => 0 [alanguage] => english [acomm] => 0 [haspoll] => 0 [pollID] => 0 [score] => 5 [ratings] => 1 [editpoem] => 1 [associated] => [topicname] => selfstruggles )
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