These are my pieces…
You probably don’t know me or - if you do - know it occurred. It really won’t matter because you wouldn’t even recognize my face, anyway (seeing how it’s splattered all across the rails and rocks.)
All most of you saw was what you wanted to see. You couldn’t seem to see past the end of your nose. I reached out to you, yet you were ashamed to be near me. You called me psychotic,
worthless,
the dregs of society.
You told me to pick myself up “by the bootstraps!”
…if only it were that easy…
I sought out anything to numb the pain of my own self-loathing. Then, I was hated for that destructive vice which I succumbed to; and that made me hate myself even more.
So, that night, I was so gone that I let the cold firmness of the rails comfort my head as I warmly embraced the oncoming lights. This is all that’s left of me. I hope you can see me…
…now…
I had a name but it hurts too much to hear it…so I’ll go on without one…
Goodbye…
If you only knew how much I still care…
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