The past which lurks my every corner

I’m sorry.

I’m sorry for that when I look forwards theres a mirror infront of me which reflects everything that’s behind me.

I’m sorry that I’m too cowardly to have killed myself, and that the marks in my throat scare You.

I’m sorry that I hurt myself because I believe it’s what I deserve for when I mess up.

But it’s who I am.

Listening to the words of specific songs that I relate so hardly towards; sadness being a constant where I try so hard to be happy yet I always stumble upon that one rock, that one rock who always seems to trip me, and as I look up I see him again.

He watched me as I hung and he enjoyed it, he grips my throat and stabs my stomach to then turn my body inside out to humiliate me.

The walls of my schools corridors haunt my name, they laugh and throw sorrow into my soul, and I laugh with them.

It’s how I am.

I’m sorry that I’m so broken, how you want me to improve myself and smile, I’m trying, can’t you tell?

But it’s not my fault, she did this to me, she made me like this, she did it with him and you know what? I can’t forget that.

How she only told me months after and it shattered my heart, how she tore it from my chest and fed it to all the pigs she showed herself off to.

I’m discouraged, as the lies of her soft voice still haunt me as she lives throughout her days fine.

Once partners for then strangers.

I can delete the photos and videos of us but how do I delete the memories of us.

Stop whispering in my ears, it hurts so much, your lies along with your sharp tongue melt through my skin as if it was a liquid.

I’m pushing through all the mess yet I always slip.

Having failed to end my life so many times can’t I do anything correctly?

I’m sorry,

That I’m me.

That I’m not fun or outgoing,

That you have to question myself about my every action because of others.

For my tears dry too quickly for me to comprehend, I’ve cried for too long and I just want to continue, but it never let’s me.

I understand your hatred,

I understand everything.

Because if you turned the corner without seeing him there, consider yourself happy.