Poem: Erroneous Honesty

“It will get better

A short promise

Which has never materialised

 

It is full of power and hope

Which do nothing but deceive

And anger a hurt soul

 

Why is no one frank?

I wish the revealed truth wasn’t subjective

Naivety is to blame for my heart’s death

 

Suddenly nothing matters anymore

Apathy is my new invisible friend

Silent, but as toxic as its predecessor

 

Everything I loved

I craved and even fought for

Has become everything I hate and want far away

 

When did my favourite days of the year became the least favourite ones?

My birth and the birth of Christ

Days of sorrow rather than joy now

 

All because of lies

Nobody likes to be played

And without apologies, the game doesn’t end

 

At least I’m not a wishful thinker anymore

Too familiar with arrogance to expect anything better

Just wish people thought before acting and hurting others

 

As if growing up in care, black, poor, and a woman wasn’t enough

I can’t lie, I try to love my identity, but it sucks

To be sane, I have to pretend these handicaps aren’t real

 

I don’t enlighten myself to seem smart

I don’t want to be an activist for praise

In my life these aren’t options, it is either do them or die

 

Struggles don’t make me strong

They just make me wish I was never born

While weakening my mind, unleashing my dark side

 

They say scars make you perfect

But, what if they don’t heal?

Infections like mine kill

 

Gratitude is so important

Still, it won’t tame the pain I have endured

Nor the silent calls for explanations

 

I cherish my professional career

My studies, my grades

And the few friendships I have

 

My friends are the biggest gifts life could have ever given me

Not many, I can count them with my hands’ fingers

Yet, invaluable, life-saving and matchless

 

 

However, I can’t stand

Who I am, who I am surrounded by

When I didn’t choose our ties and I can’t left them behind

 

They influence my life too much

Burning my neurons, altering my hormones

Clotting my vessels, asphyxiating my lungs

 

Also, attractiveness remains my most unattainable goal

Love for me is a dangerous fairy tale

And I’m not a princess who thrives in chaos

 

So much ache that can’t be spoken about

And can barely be written about

Repression becomes the only option

 

I used to be optimistic

I believed in the possibility of change

I thought good times were coming

 

But…

After twenty years of seeing a cycle that never ends

I buried my confidence and did a funeral for it

 

What did I do to deserve this curse?

I’m starting to believe in all the stories about magic

This bad luck is supernatural

 

I guess, not everyone is born to live

Some are just born to survive

Be productive for the world and die

 

Facing reality may have saved my mind

I no longer poison myself with denial

My mind is clearer now that my illusions evaporated

 

Everything might stay the same, probably will worsen as always

At least I won’t waste time wishing anymore, since now I know

It won’t get better”

 

-Written with the motive of my 20th birthday.

 

By Emilie H. Featherington

All Rights Reserved © 2016

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