Monday, May 20, 2013

Sometimes

Being good serves no purpose. 
Can't hold my head any higher, just because I have never been on my knees
From time to time I wonder what the purpose could be, how driven am I when the destination is not marked by anything on any map
I am lonely, because I am intelligent, driven, and filled to the eyebrows with morals.
I am often empty and sad, because I have standards that no one around me seems to fulfill 
Sometimes I don't see the purpose, my purpose in living. 
Other than making other people happy, filling up other lives, I have nothing of my own
26 years wasted on nothing tangible
I am alone
I am educated
I am self critical, and higher awareness has made tragically aware
Of my own scars, my own limits, my own tears.
I don't like the way I look
Don't like the way I walk
Don't like my own body
What use is a life lived for the sake of others? 
I have siblings I don't speak to, and who don't really speak to me. 
Can't call either if I needed them
Can't call on either to save me from myself. I am bankrupt.
Every time
Not just some of the time
Bitterness leaks into my relationships, each proving to be worst than the last. And the lil one in me screams for a friend to play with, trapped in a heart, behind a mind, under a spirit that has been broken.

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