Today I decided to give you guys a big treat. This is a poetic something (I don't really know what to call it) that I wrote a little while back. This is going to invoke some strong feelings and reactions from people (possibly you). Read carefully and with an open mind. If you are not open minded, then you will fail to understand where this story comes from.
A Tortured Soul
There is an old saying that the eyes are the window to the
soul. Supposedly if you stare into someone’s eyes long enough you can see deep
down in to their soul and see exactly what they feel and what they are truly
made of. People look into mine and they
see mystery. If they only looked harder, they would see that there is no
mystery. In my soul lies darkness, torture, sadness, and anger. The type of
darkness that is all consuming. The darkness rushes over my every being until I
cannot see or find my way out. My first instinct is to fight, fight my way out.
I fight as if my life depends on it, and what no one realizes is that it truly
does.
If I don’t fight, at least a little then I will truly be lost forever spending eternity in the darkness. I fight and I scream until I am so out of breath that I collapse in a corner. At that point the sadness sets in. All I can do is cry. I cry to the point where I am drowsy. All too often all people see is an empty smile on the outside. A smile that is capable of camouflaging all the hurt and pain that exists within this one body. A smile that has become so permanent so that no one can tell what really lies beneath it. A smile that people have come to expect. A smile that people don’t realize is as fake as most of their personalities.
If I don’t fight, at least a little then I will truly be lost forever spending eternity in the darkness. I fight and I scream until I am so out of breath that I collapse in a corner. At that point the sadness sets in. All I can do is cry. I cry to the point where I am drowsy. All too often all people see is an empty smile on the outside. A smile that is capable of camouflaging all the hurt and pain that exists within this one body. A smile that has become so permanent so that no one can tell what really lies beneath it. A smile that people have come to expect. A smile that people don’t realize is as fake as most of their personalities.
I have
a soul of a child that is beyond tortured. A soul that was born pure and
innocent like any other but was soon handed over to the evil of the world. An
evil that is so strong that most people choose to believe does not exist. This
evil came from the people that were supposed to love this child; the people
that were supposed to always protect it; the people that were supposed to hold
it as something precious and love it. It
is tortured to the point that it has made me unlovable. Many people have tried
to break through to love and be loved, but all of their efforts are wasted.
Wasted on a helpless soul of a child that is unlovable. Wasted on a person that
is so far beyond broken that their efforts are completely pointless. So many people, so many men, have attempted to
fix and rescue me, but I cannot be saved. I am like a beautiful, priceless vase that has
been shattered into an unnumbered amount of pieces. Sure someone can take the
time to try to place some of those pieces back together, but that vase will
never be the same. It will never be as beautiful as it once was. It will always
be full of an unbelievable amount of cracks; cracks that lead into an endless
abyss of space.
Now not
only do I have a soul of darkness and torture, but a soul of a person that has
been abandon. Abandon by the only man that should have matter in the world, her
father. This has left the soul in a rejected state. If I was not good enough
for him, how can I be good enough for anyone else? How can a father abandon a
child? What is worse that the father beat the child for so long or that he
chose to leave? Most people would say that the worst of the two would be the
beating, but I say it is the latter. At least when the child was being beaten,
she knew that he at least acknowledged that she existed. She at least knew that
he had some feeling toward her even if was an undeserved anger. This
abandonment will forever cause this soul to reject any love offered from anyone
else.
All of
these things are what hide within my soul. There is no mystery; there is no key
to the universe hidden down there. These eyes only lead way to a broken,
helpless woman that has been left behind and forgotten about by the world. It
is easier for me to hide and pretend than to face what I truly am. This fake
smile that I put on is for the sake of the rest of the world. It is so that I
can go on pretending that I am a beautiful, artistically dark person. When in
reality, I am just another lost, tortured, and abandon soul hidden within the
population of the world. After all isn’t a tortured soul what makes a great
artist? You tell me.