How I Wish

I am wreckage,
ruins of a girl;
my body is a coupon,
cut up and cheap.
The scars on my ankles,
wrists,
hips,
tell a forbidden story
of pain,
filth,
greed.
I am alone, weak, and afraid.
I am confused, lost, and sad.
These are tears of horror,
not depression.
This is a world of levels,
a food chain where I am bottom.
My cigarettes taste of failure
and my eyes are full of the unkown.
I am capable,
smart,
beautiful,
but I am a liar.
What more am I than garbage?
A rotting heap that reeks,
that reeks of piss and vomit.
My eyes,
staring always at linoleum floors.
Hospital, hospital, hospital.
Doctor, doctor, doctor.
Pill, pill, pill.
I will never be sane.
Am I frightened?
I know that I am.
Despair, misery, consequence...
That is all that I know.
What more is there?
Is it scary?
How do I know?
Drugs and fear, drugs and fear...
My mantra, ringing loud.
It is an art,
a science,
a skill,
a challenge.
Manipulate, lie, manipulate, lie...
How do I get out?
Can I get out?
Do I even want to get out?
It is so far beyond teenage angst,
it is total disgust.
I am repulsed by this filthy,
dirty,
cheap,
lying
whore.
I am she.
So sorry, mom.
So sorry, dad.
I will never, ever be your little girl.
I am your disappointment,
screw up,
mistake.
Screaming, screaming, cut, cut.
I have this much.
I am a pity-seeker,
a self-loather,
a punk.
Eat, sleep, smoke, die.
This is the path that I've forged.
Turn back?
How I wish...