Reflections of a Tired Girl

I am an enigma; forever stepping in front of mirrors attempting to angle myself in the perfect position to be loved; always making myself smaller than I seem in order to be seen. The mirror never minimizes though; only my self-worth and the infallible expansion of the earth and its distorted heart; the murderous, evil hands that trench through my body and pick me apart. None of the pieces are beautiful.

I am a snake, slipping myself in and out of places that I do not belong; constantly praying to find my one true home, yet forever stuck in a sea of gold and I am always the rock at the bottom; worthless, wretched, ruined and worn through – but was there really anything to wear? Some people are simply rags; soaking up everyone’s water in an attempt to find their own; thoroughly wrung out and yet the droplets of clarity still transfigures to blood.

I am a sore thumb in a room of perfectly perched fingers and my nail beds are dirt-filled from digging after treasure. Shovel after shovel, the removal of gloves, raw red and blistered – I am still digging to find mine, to understand what love I should reciprocate in exchange for the work of my hands. 'X-marks the spot' is written on everyone else’s map but mine.

Nobody ever tells you about the dark side of the world; the eclipse that drips in front of the light in your life and will never unfurl; there is no bone clad armor to protect you from this; and the indent on your bruised peach heart will never, ever drip golden, always devastatingly red. 

  • i am so disgustingly human

Rebekah

ON

15 years old

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