Dead Doors

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Other  |  House: Booksie Classic
A vague but honest writing used to vent about my past; Don’t act like we don’t have emo moments.

Submitted: February 03, 2017

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Submitted: February 03, 2017

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Dead Doors

By: PikalekThePikaPikachu

A vague but honest writing used to vent about my past; Don’t act like we don’t have emo moments.


 

My name used to hold a meaning, something great, it stood for something without a single doubt.

Changed, lot’s of change, all of which became toxic for the longest time, and with little relief.

The new ways felt good, even happy, at the expense of the future, such a pitty.

Hours, days, weeks, months, years, my youth, everything was gone in a flash without warning.

They all judged me for doing harsh things, except they never knew the causes, none of them did.

Drifting away from them all, feeling alive more by the second, it was never meant to last.

Small relation to anybody, to not fit in, to be judged, that way of life, everything I couldn’t accept.

The new ways made me normal, made me feel like I could achieve something, but it was false.

All the needed support, all of which came from the wrong places, I needed all of it badly.

Becoming a dark shell, which reminds me well of the night, the hope drained rapidly.

To build new skills, ones which would serve me no purpose, later on, they would soon vanish.

Trapped in my head, trapped in my ways, trapped in a life of disarray, such a shame you could say.

The young me, the ambitious little guy, he’d cry given the chance to see what reality would become.

Full of sorrow today, weeping at times, feeling the guilt sink in, soon they become numb.

Health has declined, just like my sight, it’s scary to think I would ever lose care for it, which I did.

My fellow classmates passed me up, eventually forgetting my existence.

The machines of my destruction worn down, faded into oblivion, leaving me with loneliness.

Lost in the ocean we call life, question marks made up the dangerous fish, of which nipped at my feet.

A once promising mind in my skull, it became wild, only to learn what mattered too far down the road.

Stuck in daily holes you could call my emotions, the first step out lead me to another bigger one.

This current life had become a box, one without doors, windows, or any kind of exit imaginable.

 


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