The Portrait of Dorian Grey

believing is not seeing

yesterday i ate for the first time in

a day and a half

sleep came amongst tears &

thoughts strewn about the floor i used to keep so clean.

when i get this way

(but this is me)

i begin to lose faith i begin to lose sight

(but that could be attributed to the grey spots that form inside my eyes)

but i still cling

cling like static that hasn’t found its escape into the world,

cling to ideals i hope aren’t false

because if i did not hold on to those wishes

if i did not give my everything to the love i hold for those i hold


i would have more than the nothing that i have and i feel.

the rain is almost comforting

it recognizes me

and it knows me.

i think others


they know me but they dont- they dont because they never took the

time to ask me

they never really got to the core to see i

have only good intentions

ive only ever had good intentions

pure intentions

too intense

for them.

my desire to be true and good is


by monsters who scheme to paint me in a different light.

if they painted a true portrait

i would be hung beside the

Mona Lisa

hung right beside

the portrait of dorian grey

a complex clusterfuck that only i can see

spotlights on my insides

they photoshop other organs to blind my innocence.

ive made mistakes but nothing mortal sin

ive made mistakes from which i have tried to repent but praying only goes so far

as the echoes of the walls that absorb my screams

absorb them

so no one can hear them

because if others could hear them they might could feel my pain.

there is nothing i want more to feel the sun on my face in a world where i am



its kind of a paradox, a singular oxymoron only i can


i dont even “get” it

because i can’t seem to



i am:


sympathetic empathetic

almost to the point it makes me look

ridiculous to the asthetic

but fuck it i dont care what anyone else thinks about me

i only want those i love to know me

to know i am the real me

and to know i have done everything to show them i am


when i speak.

honesty is something i dont see in others now,

they dont see it in me and try to shut me up

because honesty is what i breathe.

if others did things

things against me which now are seen it isn’t


that i have to suffer

when i didn’t ask for their needs- i didn’t cover their needs

they stole from mine

they took advantage of a girl who has

lost her


and i am not crazy i tell them

i am not insane

i am surrounded by bloodthirsty demons who want to save

their own


and carrying this weight is too much for my shoulders

too much because i did not gather these boulders but i

have no choice but to keep pushing uphill

if i dont

if i stop

then i stop being real.