The fire that once kept my brain alive Alive but tortured, ebony and cold Has burnt out; only ashes have survived, The embers dead and grey, so withered, old. None of this at birth could be foretold, Sweet baby with a smiling, pleasing face Without the wisdom of her birthing place The cruelties of children, and of Earth. If she had known, perhaps her saving grace Would be to die so tender after birth.
Alas, she grew, and as she did, she learnt That children could be cruel with their remarks. Their scorn and taunts would be forever burnt Into her flesh, and soon would leave a mark More permanent than bruises, and more dark Than scars of wounds that healed from childish mirth. The suffering we must endure on Earth Is but a life on which we must embark, To seek to prove belonging and our worth Less we have died so tender after birth. A skeleton can tell no tales or lies, And so the child was left an empty shell And all she had to say was told by eyes As desolate as those forged hot in Hell. The child was living, dead and in a spell Cast on her by those with evil at heart, With aims to tear her existence apart. Remorse had not its place, had not its worth. They took their bows and shot a poisoned dart That struck the child so tender after birth.
And now she lives in solitude and grace, With knowledge that this is the only place In which one is rewarded for their mirth, And punished if they dare to show their face Among the strong, so tender after birth.
Doesn't have to be autographical, but it is.
All I want to say is that I don't have to be treated with kid gloves... (don't give me what I want just because you feel sorry for me) But fucking RESPECT me as a human being. I expect that. I expect you to treat me as you would anyone else. Don't make hollow promises because you think I'm an android and I won't mind. I have emotions. Don't make a fucking ignorant judgement that I won't give a shit if you screw me over. Because I WILL. Labels: dear world, me, ow, poem |
posted by AnwenKya at 
