And alone I sit.
Alone I write a list.
Of all the things that I despise,
Because I don’t exist.
I ache inside like this.
My body has a fit.
And my mind will tell a lie,
But truthfully, I don’t exist.
What a social glitch!
What a hit and miss.
I’ll scream and cry I’ll get so high,
And do things to my wrists.
I’ll dwell and seclude as I’m abused,
And bang my head like this.
Am I alone, am I alive,
Or am I just an itch?
I hoped, I prayed, I begged, I’m drained,
I’m fried and strained and squished.
I’ll go insane and love the pain
And bang apart my fists.
Nobody will see how troubled I’ll be,
I don’t hope, or care, or wish.
I’ll never be free, stop hurting me,
Please look at me—
Oh wait, I don’t exist.
And while I’m running and hiding,
And screaming and dying,
You used me like a bitch.
Will you regret, or at least acknowledge,
Or am I a shadow in the midst?
The final words from a ghost unheard,
At least remember this:
I did it all, I dropped the ball,
And I will continue to persist:
I’m alone, destroyed, delayed and void,
And I was never missed.
You didn’t understand or realize,
Because never did I
Youth Justice Worker, Teacher. Writing a memoir. From beautiful Australia, with Italian heritage. Much love to you all and to all that send me tips and love for whatever wierd stuff comes out of my head, it is very much appreciated. xx Mel