So, you love the broken

I am so tired of life
and people
who so blatantly
clinically cynically
“they *love* me”


no you don’t
you don’t love me because
you don’t know me
and if you do know me
then you’re lying

I vowed I would not
I have not
bared this soul
open enough
for the world to fall into
because my soul was created
as a void
and a broken one, at that
so no
you don’t love me

and if you did
if you do
– LIAR –
then let me ask you this
what will you say
when I tell you
I think about killing myself
at least three times a day
what will you say
when I tell you
that you may love me
but I cannot love you?

it’s a chaos of shrapnel
underneath my ribs
you know
every breath pains me
it hurts and it burns
I can hardly breath
I hurt and I bleed and
I slowly self-destruct

it’s how I was raised
how I grew up
to be
this cold-hearted
deliberately lost

(do you think
you could love a monster?
cause I could not.)

so what if you love me
do you expect me to care?
I can’t is the thing
– i’d die, is the thing.

maybe you could
and that’s just not fair
when after all these years
and events that have wrecked me
Not I
are the one to love
me, who is left with them,
how is that fair?
how can I live?
(how) are you supposed to give me
you don’t know how to give?
I don’t know.

and then oh mercy
oh mercy mercy me
comes along
a blessed or a pure or a
– you know –
a decent person
(not of my mind or past
or my self-created, addictive,
and tells me
“it’s okay”
it bloody is NOT
I never will be.
is that okay?
is that alright, oh
the good die so eager to please

then what?

then it starts to grip hold on me
that people of good hearts
surround me
OH my thirst for misery!
OH my hunger for another scar!
or a punch in the gut
just so I don’t have to see
all the happy, rainbow, sunshine
all this love, I
am not.

where am I supposed
to seek shelter
when the kind hearted
seek my health and success
and LOVE (!)
and the broken
care about nothing
but themselves
so why am I here
so still
stood on this ledge
that now has my fingerprints
and trails
from every year every age
every size
since the moment
I first became
this version of “I”

am I swaying?
yet still here

am I relenting?
the threat of causing
my lovers their pain

can I
never recognize
that I, still, do care?

even when I am but a shadow
a empty cask
even when all I do is destroy

why am I
the one to care enough
to not give up
to not let it stop?

flying never scared me
it’s the landing
that has me wobbly kneed
kneeling on this wooden platform
6:56 pm (GMT)
i’m not ready to fall
just yet.