Going on 15 but my mind atleast 50

February 7, 2017
By Bastion SILVER, Beloit, Wisconsin
Bastion SILVER, Beloit, Wisconsin
9 articles 0 photos 0 comments

An excerpt from the book I'll never write.

A passage from the letter I never wrote.

That's a lie I wrote one last night.

After we had that cat fight.

After I looked into the sun and moon to see my last light.

Remember it so hard like it was a past life.

Remember it so vividly like it was current strife.

But that's an excerpt from the book I'll never write.

Because who would read it ?

Who would listen to my struggles and pains.

My inner demons and lesser gains.

I only like it when it rains.

Come to think of it. I only like it when it storms.

As hard as your house can take it.

Windows shaking. Roof rumbling. Ground throbbing.

See I used your house as a metaphor for my heart.

See I used the storm as a metaphor for my art.

You can only take so much before you go crazy.

And a lot of people have been thinking that's me lately.

And a lot of people don't know that I have panic attacks daily.

But that's just an excerpt from the book I'll never write.

Because why would I write it ?

So I can relive my life.

My short 15 years.

My 15 years trying so ever hard to be like my peers.

And then I realize one night that that's not me and end my life in tears.

I cry when I'm alone because it's a scared feeling.

I feel like a wall sitting on the edge of a cliff with its paint peeling.

No body besides her knows what I'm dealing.

With. But she says that's the problem.

The sad thing is is that I don't know how to solve them.

Every night I fight to keep the pain away.

I fight away and away until I think my demons are slayed.

Then I fall asleep and my nightmares wake.

It's a miracle I can go by day to day.

My beam of sunlight I see it Ray to Ray.

But that's just an excerpt from a book I'll never write.

Writers block is non existent for me I always have my mental wits to talk about.

Like just yesterday in last block I was stressing and had to talk a loud.

Voice shaky.

Brain crazy.

How I do it I forget.

But I think this is my last year stint.

After this I think I'll be just as forgetful as pocket lint.

No one knows my problems lie within.

But with each stroke of a pen.

With each letter I type.

I feel my heart open up as big as a whales mouth.

I pour out my emotions and keep the ones I save in a vault.

I'll tell you someday. Maybe when I'm a adult.

But I guess my life's a excerpt from a book no one ever wrote.

Full of pain,suffering and a lot of guilt.

Hatred,love,lust or want.

I can see you barely unless the screening tilts.

I see him everyday his eyes look like they want to taunt.

But my life lines have been draw taut.

I just hope when I leave you remember what I taught 

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