it's always been a stupid dream, hasn't it?
i can't help but find myself thinking about that day, if i could've possibly changed anything.
who would i be on this day, if none of this ever happened?
would i know suffering, would i even have scars? or what if you two never separated, that our family remained pure and whole?
maybe things were meant to happen for a reason but, what was the reason?
everyday is a constant battle between my heart and my head and i can't seem to escape from the demons taking refugee inside of me.
i am constantly searching for the way out but always end up short as they grab me and hush my lips so i can't scream.
they whisper that i cannot leave, that i am nothing more than a mere palette waiting to shed red.
they create a giant void that can never be filled and they tear down the walls that i have sheltered myself in.
i scream but nothing seems to come out;
what is wrong with me? who am i really? everyone says it's only temporary, that i have to wait it out and it'll all be over soon.
it won't, will it? who will i turn into?
will i seek out the revenge i deserve to inflict on you for keeping me hostage here, or be compassionate and **** you with kindness?
stop searching hell for demons

they've been inside you all along.
a.c.

it's happening again

the demons are rustling inside of me
they itch at my skin and tear at my existence
the temptations to relapse are growing larger
& sometimes I see no purpose in resisting
they tell me to do bad things
& I tell myself not to believe them
but when a living demon is your father

*it's hard not to.

When your mom said she was going out on a date, it was the color of her cheeks.
When she got home, it was the color of the joyous emotion in the room.
When he bought her flowers, it was the color of the roses.
When you watched your mom re-married, it was the color of her lips.
When you saw them kiss, it was the color of their faces.
When you saw him hit her, it was the color of his fists.
When you watched her cry, it was the color of your anger.
When you tried to protect her, it was the color of your blood on the floor.
When she yelled at him to stop, it was the color of her tone.
When he decided to leave, it was the color of his car he left in.
When she stared at the door, it was the opposite color of her soul.

When I awoke, it was only the color of my nightmares.
a.c.

it's sunny, and about a crisp 45 degrees today
the birds are out, chirping and singing
the children make their way to school
& I sit here, everyday
calculating since day one
today is day 1,398
& 820 more until I'm allowed to leave
820 more days of your yelling
820 more days of your arguing

820 more days until I can see you.

to whom this may concern,
daddy and fake mommy like to pick on me a lot
you're in track, you should be losing weight, not maintaing it
maybe you should wear make up, that face is unbearable

they say that I'm inconsiderate and ungrateful of everything I have
but really I don't have anything
I have myself, but even I am lost in my mind

I view myself as inferior, as if I am the black sheep in the herd of pure white ones
everyday I wake up feeling like I'm the spitting image of death, and sometimes I wish I was
sometimes I look in my mirror
& I see your eyes staring back at me
one of the only things you ever gave me, besides your last name.

to whom it may concern,
is anyone even concerned?

a.c.