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Worthless


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#1
aBirdNamedLex

aBirdNamedLex

    Nigrescent Black Hole

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Once upon a time,
Many years ago,
A girl wrote a poem.
On a piece of pink stationary in gold ink,
She called it Paradise,
Because that?s what her life was,
And that?s what it was all about.

And the girl?s poem won a contest,
And she hung it on the kitchen wall,
And her mother and father smiled
And said they were proud.

That was the year her horse was born,
And her father never yelled,
And her mother never cried,
And everyone laughed and played.
And that was the year she met her best friend,
And they spent every moment together
And promised they?d never leave,
And they?d always have each other.
That was the year.

Once upon a time,
Many months ago,
A girl wrote a poem.
On a piece of white stationary in silver ink,
She called it Dreamless,
Because that?s what her life was,
And that?s what it was all about.

And the girl showed her mother,
Who just gave her a long, empty stare,
And left it on the table because
The kitchen wall had been painted.

That was the month her horse got sick,
And her father was always annoyed,
And her mother was silent,
And everyone sat and did nothing.
And that was the month that her friend dyed her hair,
And started wearing black,
And started talking to boys,
And they ran out of things to laugh about.
That was the month.

Once upon a time,
Many weeks ago,
A girl wrote a poem.
On a piece of grey paper in black ink,
She called it Lost,
Because that?s what her life was,
And that?s what it was all about.

And the girl never showed her parents,
Because they never stopped fighting,
And she never hung it on the kitchen wall,
Because she was afraid they would see.

That was the week the vet shook his head,
And her father never stopped yelling,
And her mother hid in her room,
And everyone fought all the time.
And that was the week when her friend never called,
And they sat at the table in silence,
And they never even looked at each other,
And their friendship was fading away.
That was the week.

Once upon a time,
Several days ago,
On a piece of plain paper in red ink,
A girl wrote a poem.
She called it Skin Deep,
Because that?s what her life was,
And that?s what it was all about.

And the girl never showed anyone,
Because she didn?t like the looks they gave her,
And she never felt any pain,
And she had the scars on her arms to prove it.

That was the day that her horse died,
And her father walked away,
And her mother never stopped crying,
And no one ever even looked at each other.
And that was the day that she ended her friendship,
And ignored her best friend,
And told her to leave her alone,
And cried herself to sleep at night.
That was the Day.


Once upon a time,
Several moments ago,
On a piece of torn paper in dull pencil,
A girl wrote a poem.
She called it Worthless,
Because that?s what her life was,
And that?s what it was all about.

And she read it out loud to herself through the tears,
And tried not to smudge the words,
And signed her name on the bottom,
Because it was the best poem she?d ever written.

And that was the moment that nothing else mattered,
And the pain went away,
And she found her Escape.
That was the moment that she took up the blade,
And gritted her teeth,
And slit both her wrists,
And stopped crying,
Because she felt nothing.
That was the moment.

And she picked up the poem,
And started to cry again,
And tried to keep the blood off the words.
And then she kissed it goodbye,
And hung it on the bathroom wall,
Because she didn?t think she could reach the kitchen.


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