The Ballad of Melancholic Wisdom

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Memoir  |  House: Booksie Classic
This is different from what I normally do. This is completely non fiction. Everything I've wrote about is true and it did happen. A lot of this stuff I still struggle with every day. You might be asking yourself, "Why open yourself up like this to world?" Because, not only is it a cathartic release for me; I want people who go through similar things that they are not alone. I want people to see this, and know that there are others out there just like them, feeling the same pain that they do. And also I wanna show people the person behind the screen name. Sometimes it's easy to forget that there is an actual person behind the screen. If you happened to forget that, here's a reminder for you. This is your close up, intimate view into my world. Enjoy.
(9/7/2015 NOTE: There are more that I write in the same style as this one, kinda like an ongoing series. If you're interested in the other ones, look for the poems that are "In Memoir" and those will be in the same style as this).

*Reached 100 Reads: 10/14/2016*

Submitted: August 30, 2015

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Submitted: August 30, 2015

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Most nights I spend alone in the dark,

With no one to talk to.

I hit my friends up but I can’t reach em’.

So I pour myself a tall of glass of loneliness,

And maybe mix in a little bit of atmosphere.

I’ll just put my headphones in,

And play sad songs until the tears start to fall.

I’ve been trying to cry all damn day,

But maybe writing this will kick off the water works.



I’m stressing out of my fuckin’ mind,

But the last few days have been near constant anger.

I seem to lack the ability to calm down,

Even with drugs it only lasts a few hours.

I think the whole world out to get me,

Cause that’s only thing that makes sense.



Ever since you left the fights have got worse,

Damn near everyday they starting shit with me.

But I’d rather you be out there than out home.

I’m trying to get my education just like grandma wanted,

I know she’s watching me from Heaven above,

And I know she’s gotta be proud of me.


 

I love it when I’m home alone,

Because that way you two can’t bother me.

I was trying to fucking study,

I was in a bad mood.

But you barge in and start pointing out my flaws.

I tell you to leave me be, I’m studying,

But you call me an asshole for no reason,

You never finished college so don’t talk,

I’m trying to better myself,

While still try to drag me down.

I lost my temper and slam fucking door in your face.



I hope you know that we both hate you.

How the fuck you gonna call me an asshole for studying,

When you’re the one who's emotionally abused both your kids.

I got bullied at school, was always called a faggot.

Only now do I finally except that I’m probably bi.

I went to grade school and was bullied everyday,

Only to come home and still be bullied by my own mother.

Now you tell me, how that’s not gonna fuck someone up.



Verbal and emotional abuse every single day.

It’s not a surprise that I’ve wanted to die,

Even if I know everything you say is a lie,

When you called a stupid everyday as a young boy,

It’s no surprise that you grown up to be a broken toy.

You made me feel like leftovers that no one wanted,

We’re always so fucking poor,

Sometimes living paycheck to paycheck.

So why the fuck did you have a kid you couldn’t afford?

It’s no surprise after being made to feel like a burden,

That I’d try to take my life about four times or more.

 


And that dude is not my fucking father.

Biologically, sure, but nothing else.

That man barely ever speaks to me,

He does the bare necessities,

And he thinks that makes him a good dad.

When I punched the shit out of my middle school bully,

Neither one of you fucks even asked if I was okay.

No one around me ever told me what he said was wrong.

You may be a biological father but that’s it,

You literally know nothing about your own kids.


 

Your own kids don’t like you,

Cause everyday you always screaming’ about something stupid,

And threatening to send my mother to the hospital.

Now you tell me, is that what a man should be?

You’re not my dad, you don’t get to have that title,

You might as well just be the motherfucking roommate.



I only love one person and that’s my older sister.

Four years my senior,

We were basically all we had in a turbulent household.

We may not have always got along,

But as we got older we got mellow with each other,

Both of us stood side by side to take on our mother.



We spent so many hours on playstation,

Call of Duty, Rocket League and even Madden.

If it had two player split screen we was on it.

Some of my best memories come from playing COD with you,

Remember how we last twenty-some rounds in survival?



When you left for college I cried my eyes out,

My small room suddenly became fucking massive,

And I knew that I was stuck in a house with our parents,

But I was glad that you were finally getting out.

I miss you and someday I want you to come home,

But not forever, no, just for a visit.

I want you to stay out of this house as long as possible.

Just know that I’ll always love you,

Weather in this world or the next,

And I wanna thank you,

For basically making me who I am today.

 


And finally the tears,

They start to flow.

I’ve cried myself to sleep night after night,

Dreaming those depressive dreams.

There’s lots of things I’ve done to myself that I ain’t proud of.

Fucking around with drugs was a big mistake,

Now I find myself addicted to the same poison my parents are.

I’ve drowned in the Devil’s Drink.

I’m even making eyes towards my medicine cabinet.



Oh, it’s such a shame that you can’t get high off this broken heart.

And while I at I must admit,

I used to cut too,

I’m not ashamed to admit my past.

All upon my body there are scars,

The physically representation of my intense pain.

Only a few know what they really mean,

Everyone else gets a lie about a fall on ice.


 

I could go on for ages and ages,

But I’ve covered a lot of topics here,

I think you got the jist of this.

None of this phony,

This ain’t no fictional piece.

This is the written record,

Of my dances with the Devil.

My voice will be heard,

And people will my struggle,

Anytime they read,

The Ballad of Melancholic Wisdom.

 


© Copyright 2020 Melancholic Wisdom. All rights reserved.

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