The reality of it is that things were never as bad as they seemed in your nightmares

sometimes i wonder
if the world i live in
is one i made up in my head
that exists only for me

and if that’s true
i don’t mind
because the world i’ve created
is filled with madness
but the best madness i’ve created for myself
is you

This poem could well be my last
I don’t care what score you give me
Whether it be a 10.5 or 11
It doesn’t matter to me
The reason for this poem
Is simply to get everything off my chest
To let the world
To let everyone within this room
Know exactly who I am as a person
To know me as the poet who almost never was
This is basically my life story
So please bear with me
It started February 10, 1996
I was born unfortunately
At 9 months old
I was taken from my mother and father
Placed in a foster home for 6 months
The foster parents couldn’t handle me
At 13 months old when I was returned
My mother soon abandoned me
The reason being drugs and alcohol
She never even looked back
She was offered help on several occasions
Sadly she refused
I lived a quiet life
Lived in California for the first 8 years
My father and the woman I believed to be my mother
Broke the news to me and told me this story
Since then I became the resentful
***** the world
Hate life and love all together
Person you see today
I spiraled down into the darkest parts of hell
Nothing amused me
I started using *** as a coping mechanism
At the age of 12
I than was introduced to drugs
Smoked *** and it numbed me
Started sneaking alcohol from my parents
And every relationship I had
I either failed or pushed them away
I keep searching for something
That no female can give me
And it’s a love not offered by anyone
Not even that god you so hopelessly worship
I don’t condemn it
I just don’t see the relevancy in it
Every year I become darker
My poetry a reflection of it
I have abandonment issues
As well as trust issues
My heart sealed away
Locked in sheets of metal
Covered in chains and barbed wire
I have really only loved two people
Both of who have abandoned me
Both of which I seem to torture myself
With the memories of them I have
I cant seem to do anything right
My parents cursing me and calling me names
Most likely the reason to my self-esteem issues
I have attempted suicide three times
One being when I tried to shoot myself
But I didn’t know it didn’t work properly
Two being when I tried hanging myself
But the tree branch broke
Three being when I tried overdosing
But my best friend rushed me to the hospital
Luckily the doctor was a friend
He didn’t tell my parents
Because I begged him not to
Since those failed attempts
I have killed myself in over a million fashions
The top ways being shot or strangulation
I will not continue this any further
For fear of being reported to a psychologist
But I will say this
Through all this Bs
I will stand strong
Continue to **** myself within my work
And if none of you like it
Get lost by all means
It’s to express me as a person
And also that no matter what
I will go down as a god

I am behind a wall with no windows and no doors.
I feel trapped and helpless.
But inside this prison I am safe,
from the outside world,
which threatens to destroy me.

There is no one in this prison,
except for the prisoner (me) and the jailer(me)
Life in this prison is not pleasant.
The only company is the jailer,
but she is very cruel.
She taunts me with self criticisms.
Thus the isolation starts as a place of safety
but soon becomes a place of torture.
And the depression begins.

Inside this prison, there is a huge wall,
separating me from the outside world.
I reach out for help.
But the barrier intervenes.
I take a step forward. But there is no where to go.
There are no windows.
There are no doors.

There are people reaching out to me.
I can hear them, but I cannot touch.
Loneliness and fear shuts them out.
My fears of being hurt again
results in me being alone.
I must live my life with this fear of growing old,
unwanted and unloved and being on my own.

I have grown up with this barrier against other people,
stopping me getting to close.
I have this powerful feeling that if I let the barrier down,
I will be swirled away in a turbulent flood of emotions.
I cannot risk letting down my barrier and discovering
what it would be like in an intimate relationship.
It could be a relationship where I float in a flood of
joyful emotions with no barriers.
A flood where  I float in bliss, happiness and love.
Not as I do now feeling only fear, helplessness and sorrow.

I grew up loving my parents, and fearing them a little.
They disappointed me, hurt, betrayed and abandoned me.
Now I feel afraid to love completely,
to protect myself from ever feeling this hurt again.
If I don't protect myself who will protect me.
So a life of isolation is what is in store for me.

I need to start digging a tunnel to get out of this hell hole,
to escape the darkness and find the light.
I have to stop blaming myself, for my family being like barbwire 'untouchable'
It is not my fault my mother was misguided, mistaken and confused.
or my fault my father abandoned us and died.
I know once I accept this I will find the light.
Free to live and love .
The first time in my life.

I am a disappointment to my mother.
I don’t call when I’ll be coming home late. My room is wreck. I’m not in school, and I work two dead end jobs at places that don’t matter one iota to anyone in my family.
I curse. I smoke. I drink.
I’m a foul mouthed little child that can’t lose weight and sleeps around and never does what she’s told.
I’m a disappointment to my mother,
Despite the years of good behaviour. The good grades, the chaste life, the driven nature that took me half way around the world just to see if I could do it.
I stand in front of her today, still 6 inches shorter. Still rounder, still brunette. Still foul mouthed and still rebellious.
I still hug her tightly as if she’s all I’ve ever had. As if she is the only stability I’ve ever known. As if all those boyfriends who claimed they’d never leave either of us, as if all of those friends she had that I grew to love, and the pets we abandoned, and the apartments we called home, as if all of those things never mattered, or shaped me to be the distrustful little being I am today.
I still look at her like she’s all I have left. I never talk to her about stuff like that because I know it will only make her mad. Her hormonal short temper and her distrust of my judgement. I know I’m young, Mom, that’s why you should let me make my mistakes now, instead of in ten years when I’m married with children and never got to taste what being wrong in every way felt like.
I’m a disappointment to my mother. I want to have bad times. And hard times. I want to be knocked on my *** by life and barely able to get back up. She doesn’t get it.
She never will. I love her. With all that I am I will always love her but that trust that was once only reserved the only person who never left me, never deserted me and never gave up on me, that trust needs to be placed in me.
I am a disappointment to my mother because I grew up, and now I need to be a disappointment to me.