The Origin Of Pain Poem by Annie Ortiz

the world is colorless, the world is black,
except for those maroon words,
telling to everyone what i lack.
they appear in the color of blood because
that's what i always spill.
and even when i try to prove them wrong,
they only pause and write still.
they tell the world of all my problems,
and describe how they are my fault.
they say that there is no way to stop them,
so i shouldn't try to at all.

though the words are the things that
proclaim all of my pain, I know they are only written.
i know that somewhere close by
There is the writer forcing this to be done.
i run from the square in the center of the world
to go search for the writer of these lies.
i run for what feels like a thousand years,
and when i find the writer I begin to cry.
i have been betrayed by someone I trusted,
i realize as I fall to my knees.
i don't dare to believe this horrid truth,
so i beg and beg and plead.

but there's no light that appears
from behind and tells me it will be alright.
there's figure in the glare to take me by the hand
and lead me from this eternal night.
i'm unable turn and leave the origin of my pain,
because no matter how much i wish
it will always happen again
i can cry forever
i can try to change this fate
but i know no matter what i try
it's too little, too late