A/N: The original version of a poem I wrote for a story. It’s not about me!!

I constantly gaze lovingly at my wrist,

my lifeblood flowing through.

Tears drop from my eyes as I think,

what I wish to do.

I pinch my skin hard, letting pain sear up through me

noting what I don’t have and what I’ll never come to be.

The elusive father figure

and a mother always wailing.

A depression too thick to see through,

the causes of my failing.

Sherampages, screaming

alone in her room.

I want to leave, to be free,

away from her imminent doom.

She's slowly being pulled

into the abyss

of darkness unyielding,

and terrifying madness.

I can’t live my life

and live hers for her too.

It breaks my heart to admit,

but I know it’s true.

I tried packing my things,

and riding off on a bus.

She hunted me down like an animal,

Telling me ‘there is no you, only us.’

But there isn’t any ‘us’,

there is only her.

With her, nothing for me

but steady torture can occur.

I look for other sources,

a path with love at the end.

I turn to school time

and try to make a friend.

I find another hoax

friendship’s just a competition,

another rat race,

justa cause of inhibition.

I long to succeed

to have something to live for,

a ‘raison d'être’

but I have sadness, nothing more.