Don't Know.

I always run away,
expecting some one to chase me.
No one has come after me.
No one but Jesus.
He always pursues.
Don't know why I expect you to come, too.

As a child, I would run away from John Mark and Dustin when I was mad at them for choosing "hide-and-go-seek" over "castle" or "barbies" or "house" or whatever girlie game I wanted to play. Perhaps I was selfish even as a first grader.

If I run, I expect you to chase me. But you don't. I have to be in the lowest depths of depression for you to come running up the stairs. You're too busy. I'm too needy. So what do I do?

I always want to die,
I try so hard to bury my tears,
I try so hard to bury my "I"s.
No one buries them for me.
I want to bury myself.
My wrists burn inside.

I feel so lost.
I cannot breathe.
The tears fall down.
I'm tired of me.
I'm tired of needing you.
But I cannot stop needing love.
I need affection.
I need.
I need.

Or do I want?
I crave, perhaps.
I think I need.
That's what God created in me.
A need to be loved.
But I'm sucking it from you,
taking your oxygen,
taking your passion,
demanding you attention.

I hate myself for loving you.
I hate myselffor hurting you.
It's not something
I ever wanted to do.
I hate myself.
Can't figure out why
the voices in my head
ring loud the symphony,
"Die".

If I threaten,will you come?
If I promise,will you come?
How sick am I
to push that on you?
Hate me now,
hate me true.
All I really want is nothing
No bread for me,
water either.

There are no words,
no pattern before me.
Poetry sucks,
I can't write feel
breathe dream hurt
enough.
Can't burn enough.

My wrists
they sting
cannot move
thoughts collide
onto racing trains.
down the tracks
of my endless,
self-pitying
brain.

Please don't hate me.
Please don't leave me.
These words I say
they have no meaning.
Nothing I say,
Nothing I do,
could ever be true enough
to impress any of you.

Honesty? Have I that?
The broken me is who you like.
I don't like that girl.
She isn't me.
I don't want to feel
the agony inside her frame.
She isn't me.
She couldn't be.
How could she be?

Nobody wants me.
*now playing the pathos*
Nobody cares.
*the viola begins*
Nobody sees me eyes.
They're buried deep inside.
Nobody looks.
Nobody sees.
Nobody chases after me.

Blazing, burning, scorching
my soul in crescendoed curses,
the soul in my head
that Nobody knows.
Oh, Nobody, do not forget me.
Oh, Nobody, fly down to save me.
Be my Somebody, Somebody,
Somebody to chase me,

Somebody to love
the best side of me.

Before I turn out
like the dear deceased friend
who haunts my waking dreams.