Diary of a Mass Murderer

Bullied since I entered the building

For my weirdly shaped head

I thought I was better?

The insults grind up and smash

against my tiny brain

Like a storm of jagged stones

They even throw them at me

 

My family can’t even look at me

They pass my room

Squeaking some faint noise

Shove my food on a tray and slide it

Under my door, like a prison

“Have you got a job yet?”

 

Their names stand like ghosts

Whispering around my brain

I can hear their words in my dreams

That’s right, I’m nothing, my ocean

The shampoo in my eyes

 

She left me and I felt nothing

I’ve played out the scene in my head

A thousand times before in my mind

Before we even met

I acted sad on the stage

But in actuality nothing is reacting

I just drink a glass of orange juice

 

The nitrous fills my lungs

I float higher than the balloon in front of me

 

When I come back down

My eyes break like glass

 

Author: Jack Bennett

Born and raised in Torquay, England. 21 years old. Teeming with thoughts that need an outlet, working a full time job at his local supermarket. Unfortunately born a poet, he will most likely suffer from this contradiction most of his life.

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