A withered flower,

A lonely shower,

One,

Two, 

Three,

I refuse to be.

Suddenly, out of nowhere,

Calling out to me, so shamelessly,

Who do you think you are?

Are you that stupid? I’m broken; I’m scarred—

A blade of grass,

A crimson glass,

The pain I mask,

Your useless “facts,”

You see, my dear,

These fears are mirrored.

I wish to disappear—

A useless life is,

One,

Two,

Three,

A devil’s kiss,

A foolish wish—

Can you not see what you’ve done to me?

I didn’t ask for this; 

I was born with it.

Cynicality much?

You flinch at my touch.

Lying? I’m living—

Aren’t I “existing?”

Tell me the meaning—

Why am I breathing?

I don’t feel your “love;”

There isn’t any thereof.

I’ll be happy, right?

My chest, growing tight,

I put up a fight—

No, I’ll never survive.

In tears, hesitating,

This world; ever-changing,

My time with you—

There is none remaining—

The painting is torn.

Why was I born?

“This is my duty,”

I cry out, fruitily,

The sun-kissed reality:

A brutal fatality,

And yet, your confusion,

My painful conclusion,

This stupid mentality—

Can we still reach duality?

I’m covered in mud, 

Yet I’m high, up above,

As pure as the moon,

As white as a dove,

One, 

Two, 

Three,

I’m finally free—

I’m sorry, my dear,

I’ve had enough,

For, what we had;

What has not begun,

Throughout the years,

It became too much,

Now, I can see—

That it was not “love”.