The Last Slam of the Door

Even the ways of Wicca cannot stitch the wound in my soul
I've given myself to the nature I've grown to love
In hope that one day I'd become something resembling whole
But as I sit next to my waterfall I know I've had enough
Of the outside world's mysteries
The spray dancing around my silhouette with the fading day
I have grown tired of all the lies people utter to me
And I have one last harmless thing to say:
Listen to the melody of the last slam of the door.
I am not coming back once I leave this life I've led,
Ashamed of my very shadow's footsteps
As I drag my own feet through the halls of despair's mistress
While I go deaf in the silence of my mind's perplexing
Puzzle of misunderstood pleas.
I know I am not perfect and that I bit off more than I could chew
And now that I am tearing at the seams,
I turn my back to all of you
Who had the audacity to ruin the rest of the sweet little girl
Who hid amongst the forest
And behind each tall, mesmerizing green fern
Wishing all of the people who were supposed to protect her
Would grow up and accept her for who she is,
But that will never happen.
No matter what she says
Their hands fly up and threaten
To strike her once more, one final blow
Taking with it her very heart... My heart.
I gather my things and burn the rest
Attempting at a new, better start
Leaving no identifying evidence
That I had lived here
No one could have saved the girl I loved
No one could have taken away her paralyzing fear
That they would come and steal her away, that fear useless
Because none of them ever cared.
I mutter one last bitter "goodbye"
And make my way off the wooden floor,
Turning a blind, dry eye
With the last slam of the door.