Poets logo

Old Soul and the Sister

Life is not meant for everyone.

By Liga StrombergaPublished 6 years ago 3 min read
Like
Life is not meant for everyone.

Sometimes they call me crazy. It never matters who. the fact is I am not crazy, my breakdowns are always defended by illusions I am trying to make real.

I'm not crazy I am only just getting there.

My soul has a cancer and it's eating me alive. I cannot cope, I could always cope before. My pain has become my drug.

A secret that lies within... This girl's dream from childhood was her own funeral. Now as life has truly begun the cancer has returned.

What is this cancer?

Well...

Maybe life is not meant for everyone?!

This is merely a tutorial for hell and my game controller is broken, my keyboard lost under a big pile of societies judgement and my mouse has long since run off on me, seeing how deluded I was thinking I could win this game.

So no... Life is not meant for everyone.

My mind tells me to quit and then I have to argue with it and also admit that I cannot cope. It screams right in my face then "At what point in your life did you ever cope?!"

My shoulders slump down then seeing that this mind of mine... he has given up on me too.

I was seeking happiness too hard in my life yet nothing could make me happy, I could not make myself happy. No one could, would or should.

I do not see the future curing the cancer in my soul, my future is just another hellish road through blood and mud. Of course my mind is giving up on me I cannot make him happy either.

Through all this I never wanted to need a hand to hold... now I know I needed to want a hand to hold. My pain of life is feeding the cancer within.

The table was always set for three. Me, my sickly soul and our little sister 'Hope'. There was a point I realized something sitting at that damned table with my hateful, cancerous soul and my little sister Hope. None of us saw it creep so close. The cancer was growing and it was spreading and now it was contagious.

I knew my blood will keep pumping as long as I have my sister Hope with me. So I told her so.... with a saddened smile. She smiled at me softly, leaning close by, whispering gently with her voice of pure honey "I was created by people like you, alone and broken and in love with life, you see nothing with flesh could help them and they know this. I am not real I am just a Goddess worshiped by the lost souls."

On that same day with tears in my eyes I buried my sister Hope like I had buried her so many times before. Over and over I always took her back in my life till at some point I forgot the sight of her pale cheek. Yet she always came back barging right in, whispering to me again and again how this was the time to embrace her and live... happily so.

I blame my sister Hope. Did she not realize? How could she not?

So on a rainy day when the sun was hiding her smile I said my Farewells...

I buried my sister Hope knowing full well this was the last.

I will not see her again.

My hope was gone, laying in that cold grave, and there I was, hating my sister after her death, realizing in agony that only she could cure the venomous cancer that festers within me.

Hope was gone.

heartbreak
Like

About the Creator

Liga Stromberga

Dark poetry in my heart from the cradle to the grave.

Reader insights

Be the first to share your insights about this piece.

How does it work?

Add your insights

Comments

There are no comments for this story

Be the first to respond and start the conversation.

Sign in to comment

    Find us on social media

    Miscellaneous links

    • Explore
    • Contact
    • Privacy Policy
    • Terms of Use
    • Support

    © 2024 Creatd, Inc. All Rights Reserved.