I can’t see the things you say.
You say that you care and that you love me,
but when I’m around you I feel useless ... worthless.
I have few things in this world that make my life worth living
and those are the things that you threaten to take away
that you threaten to get rid of.
I have cuts on my hips that you have never seen.
That you have never known about.
And when i look at them I see your name.
Oh, but don’t worry I see my father’s name as well.
They appear because it’s the only way I can feel
something other than worthless after speaking with you.
You don’t understand that when you yell
when you tell me I’m not even trying
that you ‘ll take away the only things that keep me alive
I feel horrible.
I feel worthless.
I feel like I don’t matter and that I never have.
You want me to be my sister…
you want me to be you,
but I can’t change who I am.
I am my own person and I guess that isn’t a good thing
at least not in this family.
You carried me for nine months
you gave birth to me.
you raised me.
But you shove me down and take my life away
because it doesn’t suit the way you want things.
The way you want me to be.
I’m sorry I have an opinion that’s not yours
and that I fight for what I believe and think
rather than submitting to your will.
I’m sorry I’m not good enough for you.
I’m sorry that you ever had a second daughter.
I’m sorry I’m here.
I’m sorry...

Narcissist, narcissist,
you're a fiend for yourself.
Take another picture,
there's still room on the shelf.

Smile at the camera
while you scoff at the people,
you hedonistic *******,
you're a snake 'neath a steeple.

"Mirror, mirror, on the wall,
won't you lie to me again?
Tell me what I want to hear,
or I'll kick my own face in."

So, strut your stuff,
you golden turkey,
you untouched gem
with a soul so murky.

Do not wash my hair
dress me up
or close my eyes
I am what I am
a husk, a shell discarded
and turning up at my own funeral in a bow tie
all shampooed and combed hair
with my eyes shut as if napping through it all
would never be my idea of acceptable.

god made stars
for starving poets

when they look up
they forget
how hungry they are

    ~mce

If all wishes came true,
The world would be
Really   messy.