To my younger self

To my younger self - my dear,
Now I barely exist...
What you said so loud and clear
Was quite brave and right, in gist.
 
Not a day would pass me by that
I do not spend in regret.
Even now I hear you cry but
You do not know nothing yet.
 
You were small and very frail,
And the sun that never sets
Would get caught up in your hair,
Like the golden fish in nets.
 
Dear, your world was put in blender,
It is turning into dust.
You're a couple years away from
Giving up hope to adjust.
Your emotions are so tender,
And your heart is full of love,
But you're only couple years from
Saying that you've had enough.
 
The simplicity of beauty,
The simplicity of sin -
I don't care for them - but you did,
And, my dear, you went all in.
 
There's no crash, it folds up slowly;
It is numbness and not peace.
You'll turn out to be unholy
With a demon to appease.
 
Far beyond what you're designed to
Handle in this life of yours,
You will quickly get inclined to
Beg while standing on all fours.
 
Purple clouds up above you,
The injustice you'll condemn...
But no one will ever love you
Just as much as you love them.
 
You will learn to fold emotions
So they fit inside your head.
You will gain a different notion,
But you just don't know it yet.
 
You will find yourself maturing -
That maturity will come
From you quietly enduring 
What will make you come undone.
 
You'll reorganize your senses,
You'll reorganize your mind.
You will find out the expenses
Of appearing to be kind.
 
You will notice every aspect,
You will memorize it all.
And your cute pink-colored glasses
Will be shattered when they fall.
 
You will not be poised and graceful -
You'll be poisoned, hollow husk.
And you will be called ungrateful,
Always made to wear a mask.
 
It will hurt beyond explaining,
You will drown in despair,
And the coldness that you're gaining
Is the only thing we share.
 
You were open out of goodwill,
You were caring and humane.
Now your inner world - a landfill
Where good things go down the drain.
 
You'll get tired of explaining,
Ask the wind to take you out.
Oh, my darling, you'll be waning
With your patience or without.
 
You'll start having different dreams soon,
You'll be seeing as you sleep
That a full and crimson-red moon
Will hand you a knife to keep.
 
But what no one could expect is,
Knowing - vengeance is a tomb,
You'll be vigilant, collected,
And avoid your certain doom.
 
But it's only on the outside -
On the inside you'll be dead.
You will cry "I haven't died yet"
But you just don't know it yet.
 
Every day will set new record
Of feeling misunderstood
By the same people you would
Rip your heart out for in seconds,
And would pray for if you could.
 
Losing to dissociation,
And attention feels like dirt.
What's your moral obligation
When you feel this kind of hurt?
 
Strength not visible to strangers,
It was not earned, it was forced.
You will learn to smile at danger,
And at ways you were coerced.
 
You will never heal, it lingers
In the darkness right behind,
And with every tick it triggers
A response like fight or flight.
 
And what will be seen as touching
And as wisdom at your age,
Will indeed be only crutches
Without which you'll fall in rage...
 
And the living at this rate has
Made you swear to not forgive.
And our life will always taste as
An eternal fucking grief.