You say I’m useless, hopeless, and trash,
you claim I’m nothing but something you waste your time on,
you feel I’m nothing but an irritating rash,
the one that you want to be gone.

You say things that dig deeper in my skin,
stretches longer than the marks on my body,
echo higher over the walls I hide in,
hurt more than my parody.

Years and years of being stagnant,
made my heart stop and cave in,
my lips stayed sewn shut,
my brain knew all but nothin'.

I still wonder, why my heart started again,
the pain that had died through all the mishaps,
suddenly throbbed and I heard a groan,
of my heart, brain, from my lips, perhaps.

The stitches ripped apart, I wailed,
louder than all the noises,
louder than the painful world,
losing my dead body behind.

I had risen from my grave,
going to the next war,
where there’s no one but me to save,
don’t know just why I’m doing this for?

You shriek at me to give up,
but I can do all but that,
falling again and again, yet getting back up,
You call me inept.

I wish I could show you,
the hot blood flowing in my veins,
all the breaths that I drew,
and how strong my heart beats.

I wish you could see all of my blazing flares,
But you wouldn’t be able to see or hear,
with that soulless eyes and deaf ears of yours,
That I’m still alive and my heart still fares.

.    .    .