I hate the word love
I hate how it's used
Tied to lust
Tied to abuse

I hate the word love
I hate how it's used
Tied to pain
Tied to you

You whisper into my ear at record pace
I could walk away but it would only start a chase
I whimper as you grab me and pull me back by my hair
Desperately I cast sideways glaces to avoid meeting your stare
I feel you pressing against me
Cocking
Your head in time with your gun
I hate how you always get me
Soaking
Trying to drown out my hearts thrum
Casting my thoughts to the angry tide
Needing to avoid your wild rides
Your highs too high and your lows bottomless
It's been years and I don't see a way out of this
You huff a laugh against the column of my throat
My mind within an ocean praying for a line or a boat
The cuts have been too deep
Your blood's mixed in with mine
I wish I could find peace through sleep
But you're still there behind my eyes

i pick at my skin it a desperate attempt to pull the anxiety out.
if it could ooze out every pore and tear,
maybe i wouldn’t be shaking,
fueled with the rage and fear panic attacks hold.

i pick at my body to rip at the insecurity.
scars are a sign of my fragile self image,
makeup is the mask i use to forget.
a thick black line tracing my eyelids;
a heavy layer of powder masking the blushing of my cheeks.

i pick at my mind to understand what this diagnosis means to me.
i pick and i pick and pick at every idea and thought of this hell the universe has placed me in.
i tear and rip at them until my mind is as numb as my skin.
i pick until i can pretend i can understand.

who would know
   burns so sweet
      stings like salt
         reach so deep
            head tipped back
        twisted little girl
who would know
   fingers curled tight
      red stains faded
         nails deeply embedded
            tooth shredded tongue
        broken little girl
who would know
    who would know
        do you know