Name's Cynthia,
I'm a 14 y/o girl from Singapore, but I'm British :P
I am in love with the english language and want to master it, hopefully! :)
Writing is my solace, where I cry, where I smile, where my emotions come to die.

Maybe One Day

November 17, 2015


To them we're freaks.
Abominations of nature, to the world itself.
We are taunted, hunted and tormented.
Name's of spite thrown at us like stones.

To them we're liars.
Fakers, going through phases.
We are disgusting, revolting and alien.
They don't understand us, nor the pain we go through.

Every morning we awake,
Not happy or content.
But instead belligerent and anxious.
We aren't us.
We aren't who we display.
This body is not mine,
I can't enact this sadistic play.

Depression is a familiar,
As well as anorexia,
In a desperate attempt to be beautiful,
And to fix the mistake the cruel and cold universe made.

This burden we carry magnified by the selfishness of others.
Not given the chance or voice;
I had a voice, have no voice to be found.

Sometimes we attempt to escape,
By diving into the depths,
Or pulling the trigger.
Perhaps severing our skin into two,
Maybe jumping to safety.
But I've tried. I've tried, and yet life decides I need to suffer.
Life wants me to go through this hell.
Life wants me to play it's silly game.

Maybe one day I'll be set free of this,
Be it through death or miracle.
Maybe one day I'll be able to feel joyeous again.
Maybe one day.




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