Ballad of Comatose

What a tragedy. Most of you won't even read this, and perhaps you're better off.

It's not like he could help it.

All the hurt and grief bottled up...

things slowly turned black and white,

losing their meanings, fading with time.

His heart had been broken.

It just hung in his heart from a thread,

bleeding and cracked from the abuse that

mounted. And he didn't know how to love us.

His dreams started to disintegrate,

and his hopes and goals simply vanished.

He didn't think at all, was simply mechanic;

get money, feed family, get drunk, try to live.

He tried to stand, but we kept

pushing him down, slowly eating away

at his sanity and his forever frayed nerves.

His emotions and instincts gradually comatose.

What a tragedy.

We could have reached out,

and touched the life of his heart and mind,

and color would have spider-webbed through him...

blood would have pumped, warmth would have spread.

And he would feel again.

Daddy had problems, one after

another, building a wall that kept us out.

No one knew what he thought, no one cared.

Until the wall crashed, smothering and crushing all

beneath it.

He wore his hands to the bone,

fumbling for money, groping for food

and hope and care and love and... he lost

himself. He didn't care about himself, his values.

The alcohol, it's a mean thing

if you let it take over. And he knew

nothing else, no way to help him numb from

the blow that had just been given. 

He went insane.

We lost him, his personality,

his love...

it's hidden, eternally asleep.

Without my Daddy, I fell.

Deep and twisting with outstretched

hands into the dark abyss you people call

nothingness. But what is nothingness?

Well...

It's nothing.

You feel nothing, like Daddy, you're in a coma.

You hurt without hurting,

you cause grief without grieving.

You walk away as do others.

You push everyone away,

and writhe in your own pity.

A kiss to the wrist with an edge,

is the only thing that isn't numb.

It brings you alive, like alcohol...

It's an addiction. Each cut taking you

further and further away from helping hands...

And you can never turn back, not once you've

committed to crying through the slits in your wrists.

Oh, you can act normal, and love and hate just as well,

but you're never the same.

Once you've leaned over a bridge, staring at the rocks below,

you become comatose.

Wrapped in the nothingness that blocks

out the rest of the crucial world.

Every time you get upset, you need to bleed,

to feel the beautiful, lively kiss of the razor.

And you fight it, like you fight the alcohol, but

it consumes everything, and you plunge back into

The nothingness that controls you.

That controlled Daddy.

Daddy, you've made a monster of me.

Author's Note

I don't need your sympathy.

Reviews

[BeautifullyBroken]

This is just so... true... it puts everything into an understandable light... I wish some of the people close to me could read this. Maybe then they'd understand. xxx