Yourself

a poem

Image Credit: Depositphotos

they don’t like you

and

when has that ever mattered before?

two cyclones, bearing down, eclipsing my perfect row of something like security

i want so much to be brave, to be alive in my skin, but every day i ask myself — why?

why do i persist when i matter so little?

why do i persist when i strive so little?

no one has any answers because my world is small — suffocatingly small — until i can’t breathe

the knife bears down — all on my own, all on my own — and i don’t know what i'm doing with this happenstance of being

i call my own

the breath rattles through me, so much so that i can feel myself become numb to the world until i can’t sing myself

alive

anymore

i never asked for much, i never wanted to be much — but i was still punished for being what i was

i never tried to be much, i never sought for much — but i was still painted blue in bruises from a life like this

i’m trying so hard not to judge myself, but it’s always so difficult

i’m trying so hard to be kind to myself, but it’s always an uphill battle

i’m trying so hard to be a person, but it never feels like enough

“live your life,” they tell me — and i ask…

to what end?