I walk around this meaningless planet staring awkwardly at all of those who trudge, who weep, who wallow. I stare at those with messy hair, torn and dirty clothes, and tear stained cheeks. I look at them in confusion. They walk and are known, people can see them, and they might dwell in the back of their mind, but not me. People are ignorant of the fact that I'm here.
Day after day, no matter how i look or act, I'm ignored. Peoples shoulders turn when i walk out of corners. They don't want to except me for who i am. So i walk on, encircling the earth with my silent footsteps, casting shadows that no one will see. The wind seems to blow everyday, whether others can tell or not, for it always tosses me around. I'm thrown careless around by the wind, and by others, they seem to do it for fun.
I never grow tired, so dreams can not overcome my dry throat and sick stomach. My pail waxy skin never sees sun. My hair dark and greasy for water can not touch me. I lay myself down onto the cold earth. there is soft lush grass and flowers around me, yet i can't touch them. If one ever believed to be a witch, it would be me. But no one could charge it against me, for they put all of their effort into ignoring me.
When life nears me it gets depressed, gets shivers, or dies. Nothing can stand me, not even myself. A coldness engulfs me that i drown in every day. A knot in my conscience and self ties me up. The weight of being hated and ignored crushes my self repeatedly. And the eyes of onlookers who i meet, yet they never see me, dig holes through my flesh. Everyday the pain of having nothing and everything drives me crazy. With no one caring i can live carefree, yet i can't. I have to think and dwell on that i don't control. Why must I....why must i do anything...that is the question the drives me, that is the question that kills me, that is the question the cracks me up.
My life is nothing and everything. No one cares, I'm nothing in anyones eyes, but my own. And to me I'm the world. I'm the reason I'm alive, but then again, am i alive? Is this really a life? Why must i dwell on things that don't concern me? Why must I be here? Can you answer me this? If you knew me, would you want to, or turn away? I can't tell myself anything anymore, for i might tell. I'm my enemy, my ally, my friend, my self. I hide things from myself. I destroy my enemy, and talk to my friend. I have my world, and its not perfect....but then again, is yours? |
