Those who know me, have read the words I've written in black ink and can physically see me
Have told me
Though my writing is depressing
And my suicidal thoughts obsessing
Have mentioned that glimmer of hope that hides behind my demons screeching inside
I feel like Pandora at times
While darkness reigns the depths of my mind,
There's Hope
Trapped within.
I'm letting go of that hope.
There's nothing for me,
No future,
No dreams,
No possibilities,
Absolutely Nothing.
Because I'm nothing and the only thing that will fulfill me is the fact that one day I'll stop breathing.

Woven unto the reflection of majestic mirages
as the sun awakens to the nights fading upon
the landscape bowing elegantly out.

For within the other reflections are withheld
as a new beauty is seen in the furrows of moonlight.
As when sunrise awakens the slumbering world.

Reflections of self are collected in pools of deliberation
for is one not better at seeing the flaws incorporated
within a reflection and seeing that not everything's perfect.

The sun rises and we see unto ourselves what was obscured
with the dimness. But light gives us refection on things
not seen and we see the reality of so many sunrises.

Created in an image of you,
woven in the palms of creation.
But you made a broken puppet,
one that will never be real.

Sins of a father who wove wrong
stitches within, but called for us
not to sin. But why collect the coins
that you thrown within the pond?

Rippling within, you knew of its
calling yet sealed it in. Said that
we would fall from graces, but
the grace was already dimmed.

Then I realized that you weren't
what I was told, no father would
inherently seed you with this contempt,
just to know you'll fail no matter the ending

Sins of a father who isn't really there,
never would you have done this if
you wanted us beneath you chair.
I wash my thoughts of this distaste.

I know now that your just a sadness of
false words, for a fathers wish is to bring
you into a world pure. Who would want
to birth flaws if not for the purpose of failure.

Looking onward I'm my own decisions,
not flawed from birth, we all have our own
morality its human kindness, thought.
Sins of a father that never spoke any words.

This depression
Is as though a dark mist that surrounds me
Forever following
Changing from mist, to fog, to solid mass
Holding me fast
As I sink deeper into the depths of the sea
Then changing, becoming lighter
Lifting me to safety
A tease of false hope
True enough to be honest but
False enough to be short lived
Joy is the streaming of sunlight reaching into the depths
As I gaze up at the barrier between suffocation and survival
As my brain shuts down the delivery of blood and oxygen
to the less necessary limbs, my body becomes heavier and surrenders as my heart and lungs struggle to survive in a hopeless situation
Contradictory survival
Flawed
To have my fingers grasp onto safety
A thread of sunshine, of life,
To warm and inspire life into my bones
To fight

What you said taught me something. How passionately you claimed to not care for me, but yet how much you hated me, gave me something.
A passionate disposition for not being a good person, but something real.
A truly realistic human being.