Broken

Normal people see their hearts as a pristine, barely blemished, shape
I see mine battered and bruised on the floor, a long streak of dried blood sliding down a wall
It’s as broken as me, I’m as broken as it.

I wonder how it still beats, if it does.

People think Hell is a fiery pit, I see Hell every time I look in the mirror
Hell is my mere existence, the taunting and laughing of all my mistakes.

You wonder why I’m not happy, can’t understand it

Buy me a gun, a shit ton of sleeping pills, an extra shape razor, and a pre-tied noose
Take me out of the world
Give me peace
Let me slip away without feeling guilty.

And only then can my heart revert to how it once was
Before I lost my innocence
Before I understood what life really is.

Then maybe I’ll be happy
Then maybe I can smile without worrying it won’t come back
Then maybe I’ll be able to wash the blood from the walls and get my heart beating again.

Until then I’ll get by
I’ll just keep trying to be happy.

Until then I’ll just think about my exit, my curtain call
And when that happens we can be glad that the show is over.

And after that you can hope and pray
That the four walls around me aren’t stained with my blood
Or memory of my pathetic life.

For when all is finally said and done
I can be just a memory to think about once a year.

And please remember, I don’t care for flowers.

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