Orquidea

Promise

I promised myself I would stop.

I said I'll be gentle.

But I am still much too alert.

I am too much again.

Why can't I be less?

Why can I only be unbearable?

I don't know how much more I can handle myself.

Winter is soon too be,but my liquid being was frozen all year and the ice is sharp yet thin.

And what lies inside is way worse.

I am made of knives and ice,
and spikes that slice.

That would suffice,
But I am again too much.

Anyone who tries to slide under this ice will be sealed inside.

I am so cold.

It's unbearable even for me.

Soon all this ice will break,and I'll break with it.

I don't know how to melt.

Can I even melt?

Will I really break?

God knows I've tried.

He knows the freezing nights in which
I've prayed until my nails digged into my hands.

But God is cruel,and He does not do anything.

I thank Him.

Any more would kill me.

But death is far too kind for me.

I have not done anything,
my life is all in vain,

I can't write about how I overcame problems,
because I haven't healed and I don't remember the problems.

I promised I'll remember.

I promised I'll have a reason and purpose.

I told myself to let things go their way,that everything has a purpose.

But I am still here,still lonely and nothing I've did changed anything.

Did I even do anything?

Unsaid thoughts do not count as dealt actions.

But how are they unsaid thoughts if I didn't even think about doing something?

I'll let go of everything.
I will let life carry me where it will.
That way I'm not blame.

How foolish.

Of course I am the one to blame.

I am exiled by God and everything is my sin.

I say I'm sick,and yet I still get up.

If I'm sick all they do is call thy a liar.

I could throw up blood and they'd still point at me and say I'm faking it,because they believe they're pure and innocent.

Everything is on my blame.

God,how do I carry all this blame?

How do I pick something up without it crashing me?

How do I live with all this sin?

Is there no escape for me?

But I haven't done anything to deserve an escape,have I?

Even if I did,they'd say it wasn't my doing and the littlest consequence of it is also my own fault.

Demons aren't the greatest being,

I am one and still am the lowest being.

But I am somewhat of a masochist,so I'll bite the bait of pain,

I will hold it in between my teeth,just to spite.

It is bitter and cold,and it makes my teeth hurt,but I gulp it down and ask for more.

Because how else do you know you're alive and have a body if not by pain?

How do you know you were born if not for the scars?

Beauty is fake, because to be beautiful is to be dead.

I don't aim to be beautiful,
soft,sweet and light.

I aim to be a tragedy,
rough, bitter and dark.

Oh,I will be so unbearably so.

Because if I'm cursed to be too much,I'll choose what to be.

I will leave scars with no remorse.

To ruin is in my blood,and for it to enter my blood,I have to be ruined first.

I have been ruined,
when can I pass all this ruin on?

Never.

A trapped animal is still trapped at the end of the day,
the cage being intelligence and empathy.

Funny how I have neither virtues and am still trapped.

Well,I suppose life is after all full of paradoxes.

This book should start soon enough, shouldn't it?

You must be full of my boresome being.