I was heading.
What was there for me?
What reason am I?
What purpose am I?
Where is the why I am looking for?
My life is still one unlived.
You see I am still afraid to even try.
Too many hurts.
Too many lies.
Too much betrayal.
Anger clouds my sight.
Hate for myself is slowly killing me.
I do not want any sympathy.
I do not want any charity.
Go help someone else because you feel
sorry for them.
You just do not understand anyway.
So do not even try to, do not even try to say it.
I do not need or want your pity.
You might as well pierce my soul
with a jagged edged knife.
Pull it out and stab me again,
giving it a sharp twist.
There is no point to waiting for life to begin.
I think that time came and went.
I lost out once again.
It is no ones's fault but my own.
I alone imprisoned me in this cell of
six walls I made.
With no door and no windows.
There is no freedom for me.
There will never be any freedom.
No, not for me.
You see, I am too afraid.
SCOTT DAVID BUCKLEY-(07/10/2012)