Blast From The Past: March 8th, 2011

I found this poem from March 8th, 2011. And wow, it’s crazy. Also, I realized I am a horrible poet. My writing has improved drastically, thank goodness!

 

Why won’t the pain go away?

Even when I fake a smile,

the pain just grows

knowing not even faking will help.

 

With others I smile, laugh

but alone I cannot dream of these.

I hate myself.

I hate my life.

I want to die.

 

Is it bad to pray to die?

The thought of driving into

other cars head on is daily,

I am in fear of driving alone.

 

When my best friend moves,

I will have no one.

If I am not dead by then, I will do it.

I have already made up my mind.

 

I like being hopeless –

it’s a feeling I can feel.

I do not want to change,

I want to get worse

 

Lately I have been too tired

to cut or to hurt deeper,

but once I am awake,

I hope for the painless

world of sleep.

 

The sight of my blood

makes me happy,

the sight of people

pisses me off.

But this is alright.

 

The fat on my body –

I am craving my anorexia.

Or even better – cancer.

For if I died naturally,

I wouldn’t have to hurt

my family or my few friends.

They do not care anyways.

 

I want to go to treatment,

somewhere far away.

If my mom knew how I feel,

I would be carted off to the hospital.

 

I wish I could escape

without hurting whom I love,

but this is necessary.

And it must be done.