jennasimpkins

[jennasimpkins]

I wish my soul could be set free from my mortal body. Perhaps then I could experience peace, and true happiness? Perhaps then I wouldn’t ramble about how fine I am when I am so clearly not.

[jennasimpkins]

I think I’d be better in an institution. At least there my mom wouldn’t have to worry about what I do. Does anything matter anymore? I’m beginning to think not. Why must I be so pessimistic?

[jennasimpkins]

I make people worry too much. I know what they think. I know they think I am going to end up like my dad, and maybe I will, but can’t people have hope in me? I hate how everyone thinks that one day I just won’t wake up because of something I did. That’s completely unfair, isn’t it? I hate myself. I hate the pity I receive. I just wish I had a normal childhood that didn’t involve my dad dying. He chose to do it, and I resent him for that but at the same time I still love him. I wish he was still here.

[jennasimpkins]

I wish I could write as fast as I thought. Maybe then I could make myself into something more. I fear that I am far too sensitive for this world. Forget poetry, forget making sense. Life isn’t fair. I learned that at the age of ten, or maybe younger. My memories are so hazy. Trauma really does mess up the mind. I’m falling behind, and I despise that. I’m still in the past, and everyone’s already moved on. How does one let go?

[jennasimpkins]

I’m so sick, and tired of feeling like a failure. I am so horrified that I am going to share the same fate my father faced, and die. I feel like I can’t ever talk to anyone about it because they don’t listen, and I don’t want to worry them. All I have been working towards is going to waste because my lack of motivation, and energy. I hate this. I hate how I am. I’d never wish this fate upon anyone else.

[jennasimpkins]

Looking too much like a person

Looking too much like a person,

It is awful

Their smile is yours.

It puts your mind in disarray

You look at your reflection,

And they’re staring right back at you

Looking like your Father,

It is downright dreadful

His eyes are yours, and yours are his

In a constant flurry of confusion,

You wonder why you can’t bear to look in the mirror

His face is the one looking back

Your feelings are his.

You cannot escape his guilt, nor his selfishness.

You are two sides of the same coin, fighting your sacred demons for a chance to survive

Will you have his fate?

Will your end be the same?

Will you make your family burden the guilt of another death?

Looking too much like a person,

It is disgusting

You can’t look in the mirror without seeing their smile, knowing that they are gone.

[jennasimpkins]

nostalgia

it can be a person’s greatest enemy

it’s eery, yet comforting

it can make you want to weep, to sob

to want to go back to the past

but that isn’t possible

the past is long gone

no matter how hard you aim to get it back

you have to let go, to move on

but it’s hard

it’s hard to move on

to let go

i don’t want to let go

i fear that if i do, i’ll forget

i’ll forget everything i once had

i don’t want my dad to become a memory

a memory of the past, yet i fear

i fear that he is already a memory fading away

[jennasimpkins]

Perfect

Have you ever wanted to be perfect? Young, and carefree? Maybe even smarter, and stronger? You wouldn’t be the first, nor would you be the last. A plethora of people would kill to be something they’re not. It’s the truth. The sad, unfortunate truth. People are selfish. They’re cruel, and unforgiving most of the time. Nobody is truly good, you can’t be good. The real world is never in black or white, it can’t ever be in black and white. It’s not even gray. It’s dark. Colorless. Shameless. Just look around you, and you can see it for yourself.

Have you ever wanted to be perfect?

I know - knew - someone who wanted to be perfect. They almost achieved it, too. They couldn’t erase their ego though, nor the insanity their selfishness brought. Have you ever wanted to be perfect? They sure did, and they went about it in the most unconventional way possible.

Have you ever wanted to be perfect?

Would you kill to be perfect? Don’t lie, be honest with yourself. Would you ever kill to be perfect? Yes? No? Answer the question, it’s not rhetorical. If given the chance, would you plunge a knife into the heart of another to become the epitome of perfection? To be the next God? Perfection equates to God after all. Have you answered yet? Have you figured out if you would kill to be perfect?

Have you ever wanted to be perfect?

Do you remember when you killed to be perfect? No. You should. You bludgeoned yourself to become perfect. You drowned yourself to be perfect. You poisoned yourself to be perfect. Are you perfect? Are you perfect? Are you perfect? Are you perfect?

Have you ever wanted to be perfect?

You’ve destroyed yourself. Where is that perfection now? Are you perfect now that you are bleeding out on the floor? Are you perfect now as the water forces its way into your lungs? Are you perfect now that your skull is beaten, and deformed? Are you perfect now that you’re regurgitating up blood? Are you perfect now that your flesh has been burnt? Are you perfect now?

Have you achieved perfection?

Have you become the next God?

Answer the question, it’s not rhetorical.