The words blur, beneath my eyes, tears falling like raindrops.
Ink mixing with the page, like night and day.
Like a flood spreading and devouring anything left.
The ink leaching out onto the pages, like a war that can never be won.
Flooding the pages with my tears, all throughout the years.
Changing the pages into something horrid.
Drowning the words, just like my sorrows.
I can taste the saltiness, like a sea breeze hitting the air.
The pages are my life, written out in front of me, damaged and destroyed, just like me.
I am nothing, a nobody
Always second, since the first breath.
I am the wasted expendable girl, that nobody knows.
I do not exist as far as anyone concerned.
I am the extra breath you have to take.
The extra strands on a string.
Like the words on a page, like a book that’s never finished.
Because I am never good enough.
Stuck in a life I shouldn’t have.
Why am I alive?
Why am I here?
What am I?