Goodbye.

These tattoo tears that are tumultuous terrorize my eyes, never superfluous. The sadness I've seen is too much for movie screens, wildly, as it moves through the streets, my angered, agitated ambulance careens. I crossed the finish line only to discover it was lined with dirt and not gold, prayed to find someone to hold to ensure that I would survive another night, and make it through the cold. I get older, never wiser, as my torrid past catches up to me and leaves me out at sea. Drowning in my misery, choking on thoughts of suicide that refuse to let me be. The sharper the knife, the lesser the strife that will slowly cut away the pain. The repressed memories and rage can no longer set the stage for the fake smile that gets plastered on my face. Packed my bags, and relinquished the spiritual baggage that kept me grounded within this place. The friends that solely pretend to be concerned have all been abandoned now, as I count the ways in which this camel's back is broken; it is time to take my final bow. No longer able to put on an act in this life that is merely a stage, all the players and actors within it have resulted in my heart being unable to set itself free from this cage. Theatrics, dramatics, melodrama too, are the ingredients that once added the flavouring to my sorrowful stew. Tears stain my face like mascara running from eyes that once sparkled and seemed so bright, praying, pleading that I will survive through just one more night. If I somehow do, and my soul has still survived, I continuously attempt to trick myself into believing that I am still grateful to be alive. But alas, I am not, as there is so much that is not apparent on the surface. At twenty four, I feel like I have served my purpose and I am no longer nervous to meet my creator, and bid adieu to this sedimentary circus. Goodbye, au revoir, in time we will meet again. I failed, and have lost; all I ever wanted was a friend.