Tuesday, May 23, 2017
twelve years and counting,
still trying to fit in,
somewhere along the road,
you seem to lose yourself,
when efforts don't pay off,
and people don't seem to care,
you ask yourself,
whether it is all worth it,
whether all this while,
you're just a puppet,
or maybe the black sheep,
in the eyes of the humans,
those whom you thought,
as your comrades for life,
turns out they aren't,
those nights you spent crying,
and thinking,
"maybe this is my story -
only it's written by others",
those 'demons' are laughing,
while i'm barely breathing,
as i close my eyes,
"maybe this is the sign -
the beginning of an end,
perhaps -
when my name is written,
on a headstone,
and when the prayers are read,
maybe that's the best time -
people come to realise,
all she ever wants is,
the attention that she always deprives."
♥ nina.sha ♥
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