This Is Not A Love Poem

{“The day I loved you was my homicide. The day I loved you I was petrified, the day I loved you I was humiliated of myself that I was indeed capable of it, the day I loved you the satellites in my brain reached paradise. Or the moon, or Saturn, or Uranus with its hefty darkness of scumming rays of blue or the stars that I trace with the remainder of you. I cannot even reiterate how many times my cranium got blocked by its sensors once the realization of you crept into my soul. I hear the touches of laughter of the people that weren’t even there, I’m going crazy, I’m going crazy how many times I’m going to etch these words into my journal, I’m going insane through and through somebody help me get out of this Blume, And as the cackles and the giggles fill my ear, they only trigger me more with their heinous words regarding my existence. In the bathroom stalls or everywhere I go, it is implemented into my heart and mind of how undeserving I am so I run away from your sight never to be seen again. This isn’t a love poem, this isn’t a love poem, I regard everyone in this sentence, this paragraph, these words I say, and what I do according to my belief against all odds. They ignore my existence and I have the lonely thought malevolently churning in the depths of my stomach, that I am undeserving and that I’ll never be enough. Nothing I do will ever suffice, nothing I do is the norm of what society wants me to be yet you still want me and I don’t know what I did to deserve your heart. All I did was throw a stone into the shallow lakes and waited for it to sink into the surface beneath it all, or our chemistry with people, the lightning never ignites between us two, it only pries us apart so let me be free of your arms and allow me to run away from your side up the hills and down into the city so the streams of your slight presence won’t catch up and I run as if something is on my tail ready to catch me with its claws, hinge me to a tree and leave me there to face you again. I have been running away all my life and now it is catching up to me, I wait for your presence yet I despise it even though it’s all I’ve ever wanted for me to be, absentmindedly, without a second thought nor hesitation. To mildly and blindly surrender into the arms of another so that a shield would succumb from the blunt force we had, I can open up to, the formation of my fears shouldn’t be my fears only to withheld, it’s going to explode, I’m going to explode, this isn’t a love poem I repeat, of people maybe, of humanities suffering propaganda of some sort but doesn’t take this personally because I was once a human too before the world sucked it out of me and left me, meaningless, thoughtless, emptied of optimism and happiness became a stranger I couldn’t face once I turned ten. Why I would destroy myself for this world, I don’t understand, nor would an impact or blow to my head make me comprehend so stop stabbing me in the back. I’m crying out and ready to die because of it. I’m unworthy of love, hatred, happiness, I’m unworthy of your meekest attention, your desires, or what you see in me which is invisible to me once I face the mirror. So I’ll love this world, for one last time, I’ll love you, this one final time. I repeat it as a metaphor, or I’ll repeat it as a reverent dream, you are invasive to all my thoughts, I’ll stream in between. I’ll love you for one final time, and maybe this will be the last act of love that I will portray towards another being the same as I, possibly highly qualified. And if that’s not enough, again. I’ll be ready to drop my weapons and surrender, with my white-clad flag waving in the air. Which will be my nationality for the following year, and with my final breath, I’ll surrender.”}