I.

 

I hate the golden, gilded cage

you keep me in.

 

If I thought suicide was

a big enough “fuck you,”

that my aim was precise enough

to shatter your heart,

I’d do it.

 

I’m letting my pen bleed tonight

instead of my wrists.

 

II.

 

I wish you

the kind of despair

you instill in me.

 

For someone

who has been caged,

how can you deny another

their freedom?

 

III.

 

I don’t see a path

to the life I long for.

 

I hate you

and I hate myself.

 

I have shrunk

to fit this tiny life.

 

IV.

 

I feel like the child

who was born for spare parts,

an afterthought

meant to be a sacrifice for others.

 

V.

 

Bargaining with God

is going nowhere.

Maybe I’ll try the Devil.

 

VI.

 

Fuck George Bailey

and Frank Capra.

 

It’s a horrible life.

 

VII.

 

I can’t see a future for myself.

 

Does that make me a pessimist

or a realist?

 

VIII.

 

I have banged my head bloody

against the wall of effort.

I’m still not good enough.

 

IX.

 

Ignorance is bliss.

Sometimes I wish

I didn’t know myself

so well,

that my egg had never cracked,

that I was still sitting

in a closet

in the dark,

unaware.

 

X.

 

Hope is so fragile.

How do I destroy yours?

 

XI.

 

I will never forgive you

because you are never sorry.

 

XII.

 

I used to cut my skin

with car keys.

Now I know how to

harm my soul instead.