We are born with the urge to live,
So we live each day dying to live,
But ultimately, we live to die.
I stare blankly at a numb ceiling
As my innocence is strangled and fades away.
“We are the same…”
my heart cries to the walls.
They cannot hear me, they do not feel me.
I feel the same.
O, how the reconstruction process is so tedious.
How it is so time consuming,
I can only hope it does not take a lifetime.
I never knew how to accept myself for who I am,
So I spent most of my life running from the monster
that chased me ever so persistently.
Who knew that monster was me?
I spent far too many nights crying instead of sleeping,
Although my days were filled with fake smiles and forced laughter.
Nightmares resulted in unnecessary hatred
For the ones that love me the most.
Loved ones turn to ghosts.
Naiveness turns to ignorance, ignorance turns to stupidity.
What an awful way
to live each day.
“This is what I’m supposed to be…”
They don’t hear my silent cries,
How could they?
Only my heart cries,
I have an image to uphold.
So I let my pride hold my walls up.
Many people hold a piece of me.
Leaving me with nothing entitled to me but
How selfish of them,
To give and not return.
And never return.
The Story Of My Life.
Thus far at least.
2nd Place: Prose