How do I hate you
And then suddenly forget
The things you did to me
Left me crying in my bed
All the slammings and bangings
I took to the ground
Wiped all away
No memories found
You think its okay
Its part of parenting
Creating the fear
Burning inside of me
Flames that continue to grow
Leaving me with no escape
Just a piece of rope

I wake up some days
When I forget the pain
Only to hear you screaming my name
Guess some things never change
I used to tell myself
That you treated me fair
Just like the others
But then the threats kept coming
No wonder why I was struggling
To keep my mind in check
your hands from my neck
Eventually I fell
And deep it was
Into a world full of hatred and anger
I never felt more true
You dont even notice
You have no clue
Of my depression and hate
It cannot be tamed
I may forget sometimes
I hate you
And that will never change
a returning feeling is alive again

they call it self harm like you are the one hurting yourself. I can tell you that six months ago I was not the one carving hate into my skin. but people don't want to hear that. people don't want to hear that my skin has been razor free for half a year because that would mean razors have touched it. I know this because I told my best friend about my hobby and they are not my best friend anymore. people only want to be friends with survivors. no one wants to be around long sleeves regardless of the weather. no one wants to be around a rain cloud on a sunny day. no one wants to go on a drive with you if you always end up at the same bridge. you have to learn how to be your own best friend. you have to learn to put the razor down. you have to learn how to love yourself. you have to learn that scars heal and people change. six months ago I did not know this. I've learned I've changed and so can you.

I always ask my brother which eye he wants to open in the dark. I have a foreign notion of how to be homesick. I have a son whose body won’t tell him he’s well. I see the face of god as an idea gods use to evoke intellect. as a girl, the man of few words found himself surrounded by things she could describe.

I've been so curious as to what I am.
What I am to other people.
What I mean to other people.
And I have found out what it is.
I am nothing.
I am the unwanted friend and son.
I am the mistake made at a party.
I am the regret you feel when you realized you could've done better.
I am the thing people don't want.

Why am I this way.
Why am I thrown away after I give everybody my all.
Why am I getting hurt.
For doing my best.

I'm sorry.
If I went away you wouldn't notice.
You wouldn't feel or see the difference.
But as soon as I say this.
I exist again.
I "matter".
It's just because you don't want to have to deal with death.
Deal with putting up the front of sadness.
I know I wouldn't be missed.
But that doesn't matter.
Because I don't matter.