“When you look long into an abyss, the abyss looks into you.”—–
Friedrich Nietzsche
At fourteen,
having lived forever and suffered atrocities,
suicide seduced me.
Black as used oil,
life was a cesspool that bubbled pain
and saturated me.
Seven attempts later,
success seemed satirical.
Now,
I look in my mirror.
The wrinkles are few,
but they fracture my face,
and for every coiled gray hair I pluck
a new bush sprouts like crabgrass.
Oxygen alludes me
and I can see Death approaching like a brutish troll.
I run into old friends at the pharmacy,
me huffing and hobbling
and clinging to my cane
like if I didn’t have it, I would disappear.
They say “Remember the good old days…”
I wish someone had told me
as a child
that those were the best days of my life
as I was being
raped.
Poetry by Melgmills 
raw and painful, love. Fabulous writing.