A Poem by Academy6

All you had to do was look...


Look at me. Look at me.

At me.

The me. The actual me.
What do you see? My fluttering eyes. Beautiful smile. The constant happy face. Yes. Look at me. Not at your work, or the other people in your life. Just me.

The me.

Look at me when the masquerade is over. When my mask has fallen from my face. When you can see the small, tiny piece of something...someone that's not happy. That's not smiling.


Yes, me. The real me. Just focus on me.

Maybe, when I'm not looking. Or, maybe when I'm frightened or surprised. Look, past the sweet smile that warms your heart. Once you get there it'll hurt. You'll see things you didn't think a child of my age would see. Blood, gore, tears, screams, lies, and secrets. It'll sting. You'll feel the torture I submit myself to in my mind.

Your body will go numb and you'll start to loose coinsensness. But, dont. Keep looking at me. For me. You should start to see. The little child in the corner weeping for no reason.

Reach out. Touch it's shoulder. Rub it's back and tell it, it'll be okay. Make them no that you still care. That you could take maybe a moment from hugging and kissing my baby sister, but maybe...looking at me.

Look at me.

My large brown eyes. The water constantly threatening to fall. Make it go away.

Don't laugh with me, about a joke I made up to get your attention. Or threaten me. Guilt trip me. Just look at me that's all you have to do.


I'll blink at you a couple of times, then smile or ask if everything's okay. You'll get distracted from the pulling in my mind and then leave to continue making my sister happy. And I'll sit in my cold, hard bed of nothing. And wait for my next silent attempt to get someone to look at me.

You just had to look.


Love me. Love me.

Kiss me. Kiss me.

Yes, you say you love me. But why not you show. Take me to my favorite movie.

Let me pick out my favorite treat. Sit with me at night until I fall asleep.

Just like you do with my younger sisters. Tell me why I wake up gasping for air. Or why I don't sleep after nightmares.

Is it because of tv or books or am I just insane? Am I supposed to like watching people be tortured to death? Is that normal? And if it's not, do I need to talk to some one about it? A loved one, maybe?

Ha! How silly of me! That's for my sisters not, creepy old me! No. No. No. No, no.


So, who do I talk to. I don't even think my imaginary friends want to hear this story anymore. I think about it every day. Everytime I see my sister smirk at me behind your back. How you never see.

I cry myself to sleep thinking about it. The hugs. In the morning, afternoon. At night. It's like she purposely does this to keep us away. To rub in our face the favortisium. And I let it pass. Like a good little girl. And I wait. For someone to love me. Or at least hug me. I don't care if they hate me, or not. I'll still savor the hug.

Just for a moment.

A little peice of sentiment.

Love me, love me, love me, love me.
Show any type of affection, just love me.

Like you used to. Before I grew older. Love me.


I think I've gotten to the point where I don't really want love. Just... I don't know. I don't. I really don't. But I need it. I really, really, need it. I crave it. Any type of attention. Hurt me, hurt me.

Kill me.

Torture me. Drown me in my own blood. Cover my eyes, and shoot me from different directions. Step on my throat and watch my eyes roll to the back of my head. Slit my body and laugh as I beg for mercy.

Boil me in hot water. Violate my sanity. Stomp on my face and let the bones crackle underneith the boot. Sell me to my darkest fears. Break every bone in my body peice by peice. Drill through my rib cage and pull out my heart. Fill water in my ears until my brain drowns.
Make me stand as birds pick at my flesh. Lock me in a dark room for years without noise or communication.

Fill my body with drugs and watch as it seizes. Rub my spine until the skin gives out and slowly fades away. Yank my hair until it rips out.

Throw hot flames onto my stomach and watch is my back arches off the table.

Wipe the tears away with a caloused spit licked finger.

Place your hands on my stomach and smile a reassuring smile that I might actually trust.

Placed two hand in my ankle and squeezed until the bone snaps, and I gasps for air.

If I smile, then continue.
But when my eyes are lifeless and I still breath,

Look at me.

Love me.

Bury me, bury me.

© 2014 Academy6

Author's Note

I couldn't stop crying. It hurt to much to think.

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Added on December 21, 2013
Last Updated on January 19, 2014
Tags: Look, love, bury, me, suicidal thoughts




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