"Outlet"

Life is a series of actions.

A linear path built off of choices.

There’s no taking back what has once happened.

 

Can people change?

That’s the question

But people are so scared

For me to find out the answer.

 

Knock on the door,

Asking for warmth and shelter

Only to be met with a face

So scared of dealing with an unknown terror.

 

No one can move on from what I’ve done.

I lashed out and took out anyone

Who reminded me of the nights

Where I cried myself to sleep in horror.

 

No matter how I act,

No matter what I say,

The fact remains constant

That I used them all as an outlet.

 

I used to hate the pain that

Others brought me.

If only I wasn’t so clouded I would’ve realized

Sooner that I gave it to another generation.

 

I ask for forgiveness,

Try to say a joke.

But I stop before finishing.

What am I doing?

 

There’s a rift in the system.

They all tell me that’d it’d had been best if

I leave and never come back.

Have I done so much that now I’ve become the monster I feared from my nightmares?!

 

Ran away from everything I knew.

Wanted to start afresh.

I let the desire for chaos brew.

 

Took away so many hopes.

Burned so many dreams.

The bridge between us I

Broke apart with my bare hands.

 

Even then when I was casted out of the garden.

I never even stopped causing others paint,

Even when I found out I was the monster all I was doing was being numb.

 

Used others as an outlet for my rage.

Wanted to break apart.

Assisted suicide brought by my bloodshed.

Wanted a monster to kill me…

 

Then I realized that my anger could murder anyone.

 

Wanted freedom when I came looking for a home.

But all I did was be cast out from any place

That desired to be a refuge.

 

30 Pieces of silver?

I did the deeds without even that

Enticing offer.

 

Now I can’t come back to where I wanna be.

A home ruined into oblivion

Because of mankind's inempathy.

I held no compassion for those I hurt, now I can’t rewind before.

 

You look at a memory for too long,

There one finds that every single

Action they took will be all

What is harped upon.

 

The past becomes

The way you see the world.

And I can’t take the fact

That my actions made me a murderer.

 

Used others as an outlet,

Used them to project my pain.

Casted out of the garden,

Made the world have a taste of what it’s like to be ruined.

 

But now the pain comes in my heart

From my very action.

I wished I could be free from the guilt,

I’ve become a monster!

 

Don’t treat this like comfort.

This is not that.

The world doesn’t need

A person like me, don’t take that for a fact.

 

Living like the walking dead.

I’ll have to accept that.

My name is tainted with the ashes

On my hands.

 

All because I used people as an outlet.

 

Try to say a joke.

What am I doing here?

Try to say I’m sorry.

Why am I lying?

 

The pain never goes away.

Tears could never stop.

And I can’t justify my rage.

No, I can’t justify standing when the others have fallen.

 

You start to stare 

At the past long enough, 

It begins to judge 

Every action that determines your future.

Don’t take this as comfort.

If you keep moving down this road

Then this mountain will change 

More than you.

 

Try to say a joke, 

But I can’t finish without letting the words 

Be drowned out by the silence.

What am I doing here?

Words alone can’t make me atoned.

And my actions fall flat,

Unable to make this desire float.

Don’t treat this like comfort.

This was never supposed to be.

The world doesn’t need

Monsters like you and me.