Internal Struggles

I may not be a poet
but I write poetry
whether it goes with a melody
or it's a sweet soliloquy
I do it.
I do it to release the pain
caught inside a crazy brain of a lonely stain on this earth
and since my life is messed up inside
I'd cash my first check for a re-birth
and die, a young man
so I don't have to stand for these troubles
that struggle and quake beneath my interior bubble.
I've been messed up since I could grow a stubble.
In the parking lot where recess took place
I used to be the fat kid that the kids used to pick up the sticks and chase.
In that case, my mind has been cut by the knife of verbal abuse
and the sting of hate, which I call lemon juice.
Now mix that with an open wound
and you get the first ingredient of the recipe of me.
Confused about what to do with myself
I flow with unknown feelings felt.

My mind is reaching out to galaxies too far for the man on the moon,
Wishing for something to come sooner, but it didn't come soon.
Enough has been said about the losses in life and the pains it comes with.
And I believed and eventually fell into the mist
where I reappeared as a sob story within a myth
Where my heart has been broken since the birthday of my 5th.
Right now, time is passing too slow for one good reason.
A reason I thought was a reason to live.
Until my internal loneliness caught on fire again,
heart being burned more than once by the same flame.
The flame of want for Fame with a Known Name.
The flame of want for one Name.
The flame, which water cannot tame.

Now, your life may have troubles
but they will never be the same as my Internal Struggles
because everytime I think of that one good reason
my loneliness and happiness doubles.
Which equals, confused as Hell.
Like the person who came up with the phrase "Don't Kiss, Don't Tell".

And every morning I wake up in a Hell of wondering
smothering my beliefs and dreams
until my face goes numb and I only see streams of light
cutting off my circulation and I'm turning purple not putting up a fight.
Maybe what I'm doing is not worth the risks I am willing to take
Maybe what I thought was real is now fake.
So, as I sit here in this lonely room filled with neglect steaming off my neglected body.
I now know that the tattoo permanently soaked into my skin
is just another baby step to my ultimate win.

Thank you.