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Rated: 13+ · Other · Dark · #1684757
I wrote this during a time that my friends were having a rough time and I felt useless.
Darkness, surrounding me,

thrust back and forth in a violent sea,

don’t know where I am,

feels like someone took my mind and… BAM!,

blew it into a million bits,

and threw them to a bunch of twits,

I have nothing to offer to those I love,

and my hopelessness is that shove,

that put me over the side,

my time, no longer can I bide,

I’m losing it all piece by part,

and I feel like a giant fart,

a shelter I wish I could be,

for all their fear and uncertainty,

but I have nothing to offer,

and I can only watch as they suffer,

drilling into my mind,

all the things I was forced to leave behind,

I want to cry,

I want to die,

I want to scream,

in what seems like a dream,

a dream gone sour,

and getting worse by the hour,

I have no power,

to save them,

I sink rather than swim,

what use am I?,

I feel like every kindness is a lie,

beyond tears,

engulfed in fears,

I cannot cry,

I plummet after I try to fly,

my use is completely done,

and I wish I could be their sun,

warm their world day by day,

and help them on their way,

but I can’t,

I feel like all I do is rant,

my words are poison to all who hear,

and I’ve borrowed one too many ear,

I can’t bear this,

I feel like piss,

through frustration I want to tear,

out every follicle every hair,

why can’t I be of use?,

to them, I feel I am a noose,

tightening, binding, choking, gagging,

cutting off all their breathing,

I don’t want to be a burden,

I feel like the situation I’m just hurtin',

my presence is a pain,

my words, a drain,

everything seems wrecked at my touch,

as if I were a flaming couch,

a sink hole,

I am a sink hole, and my words can’t console,

how can they?,

there is no way,

they have no use, no weight,

always seems like I arrive too late,

I am like a scarecrow,

its purpose, we all know,

…. but does it fulfill it?,

No. It works as well as a wrong sized drill bit,

let me cry,

I feel like i die,

every minute I am gone,

it kills me, mon,

what am I doing?,

where am I going?,

what am I doing here?,

and why am I writing these rhymes so queer?,

I quit!,

Fuck this shit….
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Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/1684757-Darkness