Diary of A Thorned Rose

My faith stands strong

But my flesh has weakened

I feel unworthy

Due to your taunts and criticisms

Do not let worldly desires blind you from your faith

Many say as others say that

The darkness wouldn’t be so embalming

If I had some faith in the Almighty.

I simply cannot do right by you

For whenever I change,

You always see something lacking.

You think that I have everything

But is what you see really what I desire?

The voices in my head begin to scream,

Their demeaning words echoing in my mind,

And more often than not,

I agree with them.

Words of self hate race through my mind

As I stare at myself in the mirror,

I am unworthy, I chant to myself.

I sit by myself, not because of wanting isolation,

I sit there contemplating

Whether or not to reach out to someone

To break the silence

Before it shatters me any further.

Then the act follows,

A plastic smile creeps onto my face

As strained laughs leave my mouth

If only they knew the bitter truth,

That nothing destructible remained

For I’d long been shattered an destroyed.

All I have left is my false alias

An independent and fierce being,

Whose will never breaks.

But alas, when the sun sets

And darkness encompasses the earth,

The once strong and steady confinements

That house the pain and sorrow

In my mind and heart

Come crashing down, like an old monument

Whose walls and foundation

Have been weathered by time

As well as man’s reckless hand.

My cry for help falls onto deaf or ignorant ears,

Salty tears are now but a precious

And abundant liquid,

A sight for sore eyes,

If I may say,

For they quench my thirst

For a form of release.

I lie in the warmth of my blanket

Sharing my misery with my pillows,

Through rivulets of tears,

The foam heavens are, after all,

The only ones willing to listen.

I am fatigued by my quest to survive

When I could be living,

Living to the fullest.

Changing faces often

As often as one would change clothes,

The world's preposterous expectations

Weighing on my already strained back

I often feel like a canvas, whose identity,

May only be determined by the painter.

I now but struggle to simply survive

Than to actually live

A time when I was a little girl,

Bubbly and excited as ever

Is now but a distant memory.

Once upon a happy time,

I was young and carefree

Free spirited and unshaken

But now I lay in the darkness

And in the silence

Wondering when the light may appear,

If it will ever bother to light up my life,

Once more.

To give this broken soul a sense of purpose

A glimmer of hope and,

A reason to smile

But for now I lay awake,

Wondering what more to do,

To make myself more deserving,

And more worthy to you.