Buried all my potential

I once attended the funeral of everyone,

I could've ever been,

slowly lowered them into the ground,

and buried all that I had the potential to be.

Everyone I could've been,

everyone I should've been,

gone,

six feet under the land.

I still think of them sometimes,

lying in their small closets,

fighting and pounding,

screaming till they can't anymore,

wondering why I did that to them.

I think of their fear on the days,

I wish I could join them.

I think of how,

they must've thought this all unfair,

them locked in there,

while I walk free on the land.

They deserved better,

and they knew that,

for I remember some of them vividly,

so vividly that I hear one of them,

as loud as the day.

She was the strong one,

the one who never backed down.

The one who wasn't afraid of speaking up,

who wasn't afraid of rejection,

who didn't let the opinions of others,

stop her from living how she wanted to.

I remember her screaming at me,

calling me out on my crap,

using just the words,

she knew would scar me for life,

"You're pathetic, you're a coward.

You only want us gone,

because you have no strength,

to handle your own potential.

All that you can be,

you can't even believe in it.

You want us all gone,

So you don’t have to fear,

for never reaching the height.

You should be the one,

getting buried, not me.

Not any of us, but you."

She still haunts me,

but I've come to accept the blame,

come to welcome the words,

on nights they visit me,

reminding me of what I did to them.

There was the artist, too.

The one who saw inspiration,

even in the emptiness of the coffin,

who was eager to be buried,

but only if I let them,

keep their art supplies,

because she couldn't imagine,

even in the dark,

not sketching or painting.

And then there was her,

the innocent one.

The one whose words were,

like a warm cup of coffee,

on a cold windy day,

like the look on your mom's face when,

you tell her 'I love you'

I remember her the most clearly,

because she was the only one,

who didn't question me,

and simply lay down in the coffin,

when I asked her to,

not once doubting me,

and not once asking me why.

I remember all of their screams,

and the echo of them pounding,

as they tried to break free.

But I still let the dust cover them all,

because that was what I had to do.

I remember how it felt,

when all that was left behind,

was none of me at all.

I killed all of me that day.

All that I could've ever been,

and now I walk,

like the empty shell of someone,

who was once filled to the brim,

with potential,

but now has nothing to offer.

-s