UNTITLED - Poem with a bad side

I started off in a lonely street,
I lived in a broken home,
I live my life all alone,
I had no light in my life,
But i never complained,
About the regrets of living a half life,
A cursed life.

My birth marked the start of misery,
My birth turned all the lights off of the world,
The trees died in their own roots, 
The birds abandoned their homes,
The day turned into night,
But still i did not complain.

My adolescence was like a scar,
It would heal but not go away,
a robber of everyone's happiness,
A destructive force for their perfect lives,
Cause for everyone's distress,
An obstacle for everyone's solace,
Now i did complain,
About my unmarked existence.

A strength for no one,
A weakness of enormous magnitude,
A pain for everyone,
Unwanted by everyone,
Standing all alone on an island everyday,
This had become a part of me,
I started complaining more to god,
About the usefulness of my existence.

The mirror shows me an ugly replica of mine,
Gets shattered into pieces because of the ugliness,
I haven't seen a mirror in years,
I though i could fly away,
But i was born with broken wings,
I thought I could cry,
But i was born without any eyes,
I thought I could run away,
But i was born crippled and handicapped.

My existence would not matter,
Whether living or dead,
Cause in spite of changing myself,
At the end of the day, I still stood alone,
People came in my life and went out,
As if i were a mere guest house,
And not remember the pleasant stay in there,
I complain more to God,
To sometimes give me a shoulder to cry on.

I am stretching myself in all directions,
To gather the broken pieces of mine,
Convincing people to come and live in the old lonely street again,
and make it more cozy and liveable,
I am trying to repair my broken home again,
I am planting seeds for trees to grown again,
I just hope the trees grow faster,
Cause the birds shall follow when the trees do grow,
But all this is in vain.

I cannot make it to reach the HAPPY ENDING,
I am termed as a nightmare, a disaster, a loser, a kid,
For all the things i did,
Whether good or bad,
Thought it was for my close ones,
They were termed to be selfish,
I cannot complain anymore,
Because I am left with nothing.

I realise i cannot be perfect,
I cannot change the things I am destined to live with,
But i do not belong to this lonely street,
I do not deserve a broken home,
I do not deserve a deserted self,
So i start my journey,
In search of a place where i belong.
MAY BE THAT WILL BE MY HOME.