Criminal

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Poetry  |  House: Booksie Classic
One of my personal favorites that sums up how I feel on many of my days...

Submitted: January 15, 2008

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Submitted: January 15, 2008

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Criminal (Flawed Cry)
 If it weren’t for me stabbing myself in the backI wouldn’t know how to exist….
Within a world where tears don’t conjure
From blood that pulls from a mist.
If it weren’t for me stealing my own joy I wouldn’t know how to drive…
Knives into a pure heart that consists of the pain that only I help survive
If it weren’t for me tripping my feet
I wouldn’t know how to drown My self-integrity, while I fight the demons That I conspire with to keep me down
If it weren’t for me virtually slitting my wrists
I wouldn’t know how to create wounds
That bleed fresh blood by the hour
To provide solace for the pride I consume.
If it weren’t for the times I consciously zoned out
I wouldn’t know how to fail in my father’s eyes
This is the plea of a neglected girl
I’m still fighting for love lost in disguise
If it weren’t for the transparent scars
I wouldn’t know how to take blows
For confused minds and lost souls.
If it weren’t for the times I started over
I wouldn’t know how to get on my knees
I prayed to God to hinder me from becoming my mother.Hinder me…please.
If it weren’t for my distorted mainframeI wouldn’t know how to feign bipolar
One emotion to the next, a chemical imbalance
Nothing rich, bright or solar
If it weren’t for my father’s deficiencies. I wouldn’t know how to fight for my last say
He was never there, always gone But I’m like him, mannerisms and in every way
If it weren’t for my past, the girl that I killed in order to grow
I wouldn’t know how to laugh at a fortune lost
This depravity instilled the struggle for control
In absence, he has always been the boss.
There’s no genuine reason for me to cry anymore and to the ones I care, I constantly find a way to push and subside.
A virtue of pure intensity. 
A child of Israel, running to the sun. 
Drop to the sand, this is where she died. 
 


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