a manifesto

To anyone who has ever wanted to save the world;
I give you, my life.
It's not much but I didn't know what else would be suitable for such an occasion as this. I never really gave myself the time to think. I know I should have, but...I have a problem with procrastination. It always defeats me, and time runs out before I can find a reason, an excuse, anything to cover another mistake made, on my terms. Always, on my terms. Never their fault, always my own. Apologies have only been given but never returned. They don't think I would appreciate it. But they just don't understand. Sometimes, I wish they would try to. Trying something new was never too difficult, my mother encouraged it, so now I do the same.
Jump into the sea of change and feel yourself grow.
Feel yourself adjust to new water, and feel yourself morph,
feel yourself reconstruct, feel yourself mutate.
Don't be so possessed by society's views, and try to catch the fleeting glimpse before you're truly gone, and have nothing to rely on. Nothing to see, because it's long gone around the bend.
You're so obsessed. Obsessed with the innocence of her frail arms, and weak smile. Captivated by the white skin, the glossy hair, the youth she holds behind her shiny eyes.
Infatuated, and can't shake it off. She won't forget you, but you'll forget her innocence once you tear her insides apart. Consuming her glorious charm. Annihilating everything she ever held within her.
And you ask yourself, "How could I?" But only as you dismantle the ticking bomb inside the helpless girl. The sheltered girl. The broken, desolate girl.
So, how could you? How could you?
A grin on your lips clearly tells me how, and you proceed to give the gory details. She said, "I want to go to bed" and you erupted in laughter as you dragged her to the cold, and dark attic, and laid her on the mattress which had stains all over it. You told me of the way you wrapped the rope around her, the way the knife cut her bleached skin, and how the mirrors framed 2 bodies as one wept, and another made love.
But how could you, is the only thing on my mind.
Not How.
But, how? Why?
You must be the reckoner. The ruiner. The critic, the cynic.
Breaker of images I ever thought reflected the small ounce of good in man kind. Here's whats left, now take it, take it, take it, and take it all. Leave me nothing, let me starve.
Please, please. Tell me there's no God.
Give me a fair chance to question the revolutionary man. The industrial worker. The polluter, the deceiver, the liar who covers for us all.

I just want someone to save me,
but not the way you think you saved her.