silent kid

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Poetry  |  House: Booksie Classic
Self-loathe.

Submitted: March 11, 2014

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Submitted: March 11, 2014

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i have one friend
i have no friends
i am my own friend
i am my worst friend because
i hate myself and i
hurt myself.
i deserve it.

there, through thick smoke
was the phantom -
but there, extending a hand
was another.

i am split in two.
one attempts to kill the other 
while the two apparitions
laugh to themselves as they are
spattered with blood
sticky, dark-crimson blood
to indulge in.

dark demon you
hold a spine in
one skeletal hand and
tell me to 
finish.

i try. i do not suceed. i am lost. 

they say i will go to hell.
i do not know what that is.
i say that and they tell me i'm wrong.
i say that and they say i'm getting worse.
i say anything and they say the other.
they. 

(i am scared. i am terrified.)

they say i am happy and i say i am not.
but they say i look happy and i ask how is that?

"you are smiling," they point out with their
crooked-teeth and their
rotting voices and their
sunken eyes.

i am smiling but i am not happy.

i dug in deeper and i was still alive
but by that time
they had forgotten it all.


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