Mikayla Powell

Forgetting the Reasons

Just that one thing ruined it all All of the past expeirence of my hate and my love for someone and something. Because of that i have no love left in side of me. Why do we cuase such pain for those of meaningless worth in our lives? What joy and excitment do we get when are dreams become crashed down through hate and misery? How can we live with are selves, the beasts we are? We cause so much pain in the world. The saden the sickned the lost in all hope of things forgotten. Why can't we decide on something worth while? Does it excite us? Does it brings us to a place of peace and sanity? Lifes like walking on a thin sheet of glass, once theres a crack in the surface you cant go around. All you can do is try fixing it up the best to your ablility Why the hate? Why question? What's the point in repeating yourself, if all the answer's you get become harsher and harsher? Why? Can't there be someone or something to fix the problems in are problomatic lives? I'm in a box with no holes. The box is small, the boxes walls are thin...just like the thin sheet of ice Because of that I no longer can live the life i was meant to live. Because of that my emotions have been permantely sealed in an envelope thats sealed by the cries of hell. The wrong doing. The unspoken words of the quiet ones, shaken out by the people who interogaite us, who poke and pull on are emotions and mistakes like they're rubber bands. The thoughtful ones who stand near them and comfort their feelings. Cradle them as if they were their own childern. We cry. We scream. Fist pumping against the brick wall that restraints us from everything else. No hope. No trust. Why the shameful excuss you give to the ones that care and love you? Don't hate the people. Don't hate them... The pain that's inbedded into the skin of the depressed is worth while of: Listening to. Notice. Comfort of nothing but a blade and thread and needle. We sing a song of hurt and of happiness. We sing the words that come naturally to us. Don't shake us for we are a tree of no hope but of sorrow. If are leaves shake are tears fall. If the branch up high breaks, we have fallen to low to be saved If we get cut down limb by limb then there really no point in talking. If you speak of my fall, then you have been struck as hopeless. To forget is to make the best of things. The dug up dirt thats underneath your fingernails, is nothing but grinded up goals. We try to are best to achieve them only to be shot down by the people around us. We have happiness. Of a blade cutting through the organ that incases all else. We have hope. Of getting through the difficult, but never achieving it. We have goals. To not be seen. We have hate. Of those who try to make it all in the right when it's all in the wrong. We have love. To those of worth. We feel sad. Of everything thats real. Why can't any of you see my pain. The pain of misery. Lifes not that bad, it's just a game though. The game of win and lose. The game of hate and love. The game of decide and forget. Forgive and forget. Not a possible thing to do when they become number one in life. recieve then let go. How is that possible when you recieve nothing but sadness, and when timed to let go it clinges to you like a barnicle on a rock? Is it pssible to forgive but not forget? Is it possible to recieve but not let go? A ticking time bomb. The only thing we think it's all about. Forgetting the reasons. Thats all we have to do.

 

All rights belong to its author. It was published on e-Stories.org by demand of Mikayla Powell.
Published on e-Stories.org on 15.10.2010.

 

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