I Am An Empty Vessel

I am an empty vessel. Sitting in an overfilled room. Nothing is the right size to fill me, everything just seeps out. This room I’m in has no room for me. I am but a small thorn in a world of roses. You see me hidden but never know when to expect it. My life is empty. Nothing completes me. My eyes are dry, my skin in raw, I am a disgrace. No one would want me. No one wants to see this body I live in. Impossible to love, is what I am. To look at me is painful to your eyes. These bruised limbs show you how lucky you are to be blessed. No one would raise a hand to you, but me, I am not worth it. They raise a hand not because I am beautiful, but because I am not worth their time. I sit and watch them take their time with others but not me. When you look at me do you see something worth loving? These bags under my eyes are from you. From sleepless nights and endless tears. But never were you the cause. You were the solution. You gave me a reason to live.‚…and to die. So here I sit. In this world all my own, the one place I am needed. And I inhaled needles, feeling them slice down my throat, a painful end, but I live and light the match. Lying in a bed of flames that indulge in my scorching flesh. I lose feeling and for once I am at peace. A peace that in my many years I have never known. This is feeling similar to the brief peace of the blade. You see though this is different. It is permanent. This is finally to the magnitude of everything that is inside. My life has been spent seeking a physical pain extreme enough to match what I feel everyday. This is it, the flames enveloping my body. I am but a scarecrow on fire. Stake me in your field and leave me to bleed. Let me rot there with your crops. Leave us to ourselves. They are but nature and they will live, but I will not. Leaving me here, staked to save the crop, let my blood by fertilizer. Light up the night with whom I am. Tell people the story of the crazy girl who was loved not. The one that had to funeral because the money would be a waste. The girl that no one loved, no one would attend. A priest would stand there and pray over my god-forsaken body and I would be lowered into the ground. Finally in a place that I am used to, everyone then would know that I was being trampled by innocent feet. This is where I am meant to be. In this bottomless pit I call my grave. Six feet under, warm and alone. This is where I want to be