I'm done.
She said it when I was a girl
And didn't listen to all of his orders
He would beat me as she said it
With words like stupid and worthless
And brat
But those were only the nicest
And she would tell that to me
She was done.
I guess with me.

Later in life,
After that man was out of our house
She still told me that
At night when I'd comfort her crying
And she didn't want me to
In between sobs the words slipped out
She was done.
I guess with life this time and I couldn't
Stop her then.

When the crying stopped,
A new man entered our house
And I started carving
My self hatred on my skin
I remember the second time they found out.
I told her what I was doing
To my body
She forced me to show her my stomach
When I did
All she had to say was
I'm done.
So I was right.
She was done with me.
I wasn't worth the fight anymore.

I'm done.
I'm done.

Like a tired teenage girl who had heard those words uttered too many times.

im tired of my thoughts and feelings being torn from me for you amusement
im sick of hatred and torture from the people who should love me
i just want the peace i lived in back
but it was never there
i want sleep
i don't want death or dying
for those are ****** matters and beings
i want sleep
not mr sandman and his cookie cutter dreams
id be too tempted to do harm with those sharp objects
i want sleep
some kind of home i can curl into
i want sleep
in purple sheets
i want sleep
i want to be complete
but i cant find any rest
people tell me im too lazy to lay down my head
but how is that true
i want sleep
i just dont know how ill get it soon enough

Let me lay this out for you now:
All of you tell me to give up and to move on.
I've heard what you've had to say.
Do not think that I listen with a closed mind.

My mother thinks this girl,
My girl,
Is bad for me.
She is the source of my stress
And I do not know happiness
Because I've never been happy
With my ******* up home life.
So how can I love?
I can't.
According to her.

My stepfather thinks that I,
The I I've been since birth,
Is not sure
Of who she is.
She is just curious.
"Bi-curious."
How can you know if you have
Never had ***?
I can't.
According to him.

My best friend thinks he,
The he I've never really seen a lot,
Is better for me.
That she
Won't come back
And that I
Should give it up.
Give her up.
How can  you still be together
If you cannot see her?
We can't.
According to him.

My...
Well,
My everyone
They keep telling me
That she is never coming back
And maybe they are right
And I'm wasting my time.
But think for me.
Think of happy.
Think of bliss.
Maybe even ignorance.
Think of sunny days and your poems about your summer vacation that you had so much fun on. Think of rainy days that were okay because the rain felt good on your skin and poets seem to find something behind every drop. Think of the pet names you will give your spouse when you are lustful. Think of what your children will call your parents. Think of a name for that song you don't know the name of so you call it the tunnel song. Think of happy,
Think of bliss,
Think of anything that brings a smile to your face.
That feeling...

That is what she does to me.