My essence is fading
Christianity's the bleach
The second I left Murder Beach...I knew it would happen
But it happened so fast-
Like everything else.
The phone seldom rings these days
As if I'm being punished for the things I can't control
Part of being your kid is being your scapegoat, I know
But this is too much-
Life takes it's toll
Nothing is stable but my poetry.
In my quest for stability I found nothing more than what I run from-
Recycle your bottles and brainwaves to match
It weighs itself out with karma
Oh! let's talk about karma!
Maybe I've done something subliminally horrid
And now I'm paying the price
It's just...this way of life isn't the least bit enticing
Broken homes full of brain cells splicing...into an oblivion.
I fuss about being isolated
But here I sit-
Imprisoned inside home recipes
For the family's social anxiety.
If I had a heart it would be broken
But turned into a mosaic and placed in the garden.
Maybe some things do matter
Maybe everything is art.
Just leave me be-
For now...at least.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.