Wayward child

Why bother pretending I don't hurt at all? I do. I didn't want to give up. I didn't want to let go. Yet. Still.

So many parts of me scream sever myself. Cut. Cut. Cut.

And still. I remain standing.

I kneel in hopes that one day I walk full and not empty. And. Still.

Still I say nothing. I wait as it is expected. I take my turn. Yet. Still.

I'd like to run. Fade out of everything but what good is that. It does nothing to increase growth.

Still. And. Yet.

Here I am floating in mid sentence. Incapable of saying much from my lips. Still. Yet I die inside. More like the decay is breaking away.

Hopefully one day I will be real again.

And. Yet. Still. Do I want to be going forward? Do I want to continue or just disappear into the world.

I thought I was helpful but more like I have been harmful.

Yet. Still. I strive to be something. But what?

Am I anything now? Just that wayward child. Never really fitting in anywhere.

Once more.

Always.

Yet.
Still.

I am here.

Why?