I feel like a cigarette.
My soul is being ****** out,
I’m being used just for what they want from me.
My precious nicotine.
They're setting me on fire,
Flicking me between their fingers.
Pressing me against their lips,
Giving me meaningless kisses.
I am not unique, I am not special.
I come in packs of 20,
And handed out  to whoever asks.
And when they are done with me,
They step on me,
Press me hard into cold ashtrays,
Thrown out windows
To lie motionless on the side of the road
Surrounded by those just like me.
A useless shell of what I once was.

You called me beautiful
said it was the only word
that could ever describe me.

You called me beautiful
And told me I was the reason
you got up every morning.

You called me beautiful
to make me stop crying
it worked for a while.

You called me beautiful
so I would open the door
and stop hiding from you.

You called me beautiful
so I wouldn't tell others
what you did.

You called me beautiful
even though I had bruises
and scars.

You called me beautiful
even though you were angry
because I wasnt sober anymore

You called me beautiful
but only in front of our friends
so they wouldn't worry about me.

You called me beautiful
so I would stay with you
I had to stay

You called me beautiful
until one day
then you didnt say anything.

You got angry
when my poem was published.
It talked about love
and blood
and lying.
You were worried,
you thought people would know
it was our love
my blood
our lies.
Your mother read it.
I wonder if she knew
it was about you.
I wonder if you know
I still cant sleep