I always hated your silence. An excavator will always lose to you. You are the voiceless face of criticism, judging me for all of my faults. I can never measure up to whatever hologram you wanted me to be. Morally superior, I was the failure no one could fix. The scapegoat run amok. You are lukewarm to my furious intensity. The band aid to my melancholy wounds. Mechanical, robotic. Disconnected and psychotic. Keep your awkwardness to yourself. We're not all sentimental here. Most of us are just happy to be sad. Too depressed to compromise. Too exotic, too unstable. In the arcane realm, even you are obscure. I baptized myself to earn a place at your mercy. I medicated myself to elevate to your cacophony. I contorted everything, I distorted everything. A hollow creator, an absent ringleader. Your silence arrived right on time. I would've tried just for you. My tears are inconsolable but I hear nothing. There is only silence
About the Creator
Anna Torres
I’m a 37-year old mother. I love reading, metal music, and writing. I have begun writing again since 2021
Enjoyed the story? Support the Creator.
Subscribe for free to receive all their stories in your feed. You could also pledge your support or give them a one-off tip, letting them know you appreciate their work.
Comments
There are no comments for this story
Be the first to respond and start the conversation.