I walked through a field where flowers no longer seize to exist, just weeds. Ugly weeds, underestimated they may seem however the outside is ugly and they have no purpose other than destroying the beautiful flowers, I was the weed. I was and ugly on the outside, people underestimated me. They would walk past and look towards me, I could acknowledge the judgmental eyes and how they were mentally comparing me to an inhumane animal, except they may have shown a wild animal more consideration than I.
Trying to survive in a world full of hatred is a hard experience. I don't belong in this world I am a bird that cannot fly, a caterpillar trapped in its mangled, ugly form, I am the flower that never blossomed. Maybe one day I will blossom and spread my wings but for now I'd rather learn how to survive rather than give myself faulty hope. For now I remain, just me, the bird that never flew.
Everybody has a reason to wake up in the mornings, some wake up just for the excitement of a beautiful new day but I, I awake to stop people worrying. Few care and I highly doubt that if I didn't arrive at school for at least two weeks my absence would be unnoticed by many. I spend most of my day at school following after the groups of girls that I long to be apart of, inside jokes and secrets that don't involve you can make a person feel very isolated, especially me. I would not mind if I had one friend, just someone who I could place all of my trust in but that always ends undermined. I don't want to name the people who have constantly hurt me but they should know exactly who they are. For I am the guilt they feel and I am the darkness that never leaves their back, I will always be one step behind them.
For every person that has caused me pain in my life, the knife still remains in my back. They have never left, after all you cannot simply pull hundreds of bloody knives from your skin without feeling a surging pain that is unbearable. Once the pain settles down you learn to forget, forget that the knife had ever been there in the first place. I prefer to leave the knives in place, where they belong as a reminder of who I should never trust again.