What’s the point of being so beautiful?
If broken –
It feels like a trap
Everyone can see something I
Will never feel.
What’s the point of being so broken
If my lineage
Dies with me –
All the suffering and surviving –
Just to end it on
Beautiful, broken me.
What’s the point of trying
When it’s always my fault?
If it’s not this, then it’s that –
Never right, always wrong –
Not all, but enough to
Deserve this sad plight.
Because it’s sad to be trapped in a body
So perfect and beautiful –
The envy of all.
For one reason or another,
So much to covet about
The body that traps me
To relive the memories –
Of how I tried and I tried
To get it all right,
To be believable and good,
To be understood,
And to prevent the danger
From ever arising,
When all I lived in was danger
Upon danger and danger!
I should not have survived.
I should not be here today.
So, who cares if I’m too broken
To take a hit and be gay?
I’ll never get it right.
I’m giving up the fight.
This is stupid and dull
I’m feeling done and tired
Of always being told
It’s my fault,
Just try harder.
Parker Stillwater 