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John Wallace Poem
No, I am not oppressed.
What I am, is tired. I’m tired of all of the things that have happened in my lifetime. Tired of the things to come. Tired of the pain.
If you want me to be safe, then put me in a rubber room with no sharp objects because I’m so close to unzipping my veins.
I’m so afraid of what you think of me, but that’s why I’m writing this. That’s why I’m doing ANYTHING I can because you can’t hate me if you’re still singing.
Death doesn’t inspire me anymore. Death seems like a comforting blanket surrounding the cold and the sick, for I am the sick. I am the broken. I am the one, who all of you look to for guidance, because I have been there.
I have been a witness to more than you could possibly imagine.
Life to me, is pointless. I have no purpose here. I have nothing to look forward to in my life except for the fact that one day my veins are going to breathe.
The blood is going to pour from each cell, leaving it for the next body to come around.
You see, I’m never who you thought I’d be. You have always seen me as this happy go lucky kid who doesn’t have a care in the world but, that’s not the case. I’m not happy whatsoever.
What you see right now is the biggest facade anyone has ever created.
I, am not oppressed. I, am depressed. I’m so tired, so apathetic.
The world is caving in on my shoulders and I can’t do a single thing to stop it.
The thing that people don’t realize about me is at night, the world begins anew. Each day is a brand new day for us to explore, but for me it’s still in the same place. We are going nowhere and I, am the only one to see it.
So please don’t ask me why something is wrong because you will never get the true answer.
There is one reason as to why I never tell my therapist what is going on inside my head and that is because I do not want to believe that I am truly dying.
I do not want to recognize that the blood flowing through my veins is the poison and my body is making me cut it out of myself.
I do not want to realize that everything that I have ever done up to this point in this life is break everything I touch.
I don’t want to recognize that even through my hardest attempts to make it not true is that
I, am real and goddamnit.
I am alive.
Copyright © John Wallace | Year Posted 2017
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