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What You've Created

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A front. A mask, low and behold, I’m scared. Terrified that people won’t see the real me, or more terrified that they will. But isn’t that what I want? Recognition? Affirmation? To be noticed and adored? But if they peer too closely, they’d see right through me. Their eyes plunging into the depths of me, hitting the core. What am I really? A poser? A good faker? When did I enter the world of deceptive foolery? When did I sink so low as to perpetually bury myself trying to become what you want? Who am I? What am I made of? Infallible strength? Courageous bravery? No. Inside is a little child being strangled by you. Striving for more I choke. Why can’t I reach it? Perfection or even just being good enough according to your standards? Never will I reach it. Does that mean I give up? Of course not. I will die trying to please you. My final steps will be at your command, my head down at your feet. Why do I worship you? Who made you the idol? The exhaustion will never be worth it, does that go through to my heart? Nope. My breath will continue to labor for you. You criticize, you judge, you slander, you destroy, you murder, you spill hatred from your every pore. You look down upon me, while I’m gasping for oxygen – trying to serve you. Will there ever be a pay off? No. Does that concern me? Again, no. I will travel to the ends of the earth to follow your lead. I will dive into the black seas of no return in hopes of finding you. Looking for you when you’re smacking me in the face, telling me to straighten up, or measure up. Will I ever meet your expectations? I can only wish. But wishes are only dreams, and dreams are meant for sleeping. And sleeping is for the dead. And dead I will become as I’m your daily slave. You crush the hopes of many. You paralyze all we have. You mutate all that’s beautiful about us. You traumatize the innocent ones. You break down every defense we come up with, only to push us down and make us cry. Who gave you this power over us? Who gave you the gun and told you to point it at us? You have us stopped dead in our tracks, hypnotized by your alluring sense of reward, beauty, fame, love. But are you rewarding? No. Beautiful? No. Famous? Only among your brainwashed slaves. Loving? Farthest thing from it. You hate on everyone, belittling them, robbing their lives forever – keeping them captive. You will hold them hostage until we surrender. You will torture them without ceasing. You will continue your charade, stealing all that’s precious to them until the end of time. Well are you satisfied? It all began with an image and look where you’ve gotten us. Empty stomachs, slit wrists, scarred hearts. We’re all broken. And you personally took the ax to us. You caused the damage. Are you proud of yourself? What do you have to show for your gruesome handiwork? All the tears shed because of you… Who do you think you are to control us? WHO ARE YOU? You are the fashion magazines, the Hollywood glamor, the movies, the music videos, the romance books, the model agencies, the airbrushed photos, the haughty cheer captain, the abusive or over expectant parent, the racist bully. Even my best friend.

You are the world.

And you make me sick.



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