My body is not yours to bruise with your ***** viscous words and hands that carry layers and layers of my dried up blood,
You have no right to touch my sanctuary of a body the way that you do nor do you have any right to penetrate my mind with your poisonous venom that drips from your lips like a torrential rain,
You do not have a say in what I choose to cloth my body of which I perceive with disgust no less, no more,
I shall dress my inane skin in beautiful markings not to appear different to society as you say but to be the alluring being I wish to be,
I wish for a freedom you do not provide me with,
I wish for a day where you do not persecute me for my dark desolate wandering soul for I cannot control who I am meant to be although I have tried to change my self perception for your cold, conceited statue,
Oh you do what you do so well saying what you say so drolly,
I do comprehend my pitiful soul as pitiful of course but with your pesky whispering leaving me whimpering in the dirt and space of empty nothingness,
Oh how I am such an immaculate nothingness,
A swing here, a blow there,
There goes my dented shuffle, my cardinal dropping to the stiff brute ground,
I suppose my fear is amusing to say the least,
You drink it all up as it seeps out of me as if it were my dark red blood,
Oh how you must love its bitter taste for you beg for it every destructing moment you desire with an insatiable fire,
My need for peace is oh so dire, so dire,
I soak in the fear that my death is imminent,
That it is near,
Perhaps waiting just around the corner of the road,
Waiting oh so patiently to pounce out at me,
With such delightful grinning glee,
Maybe I shall meet death in an hour, perhaps our rendezvous will take place on Monday, perhaps it shall be when I am old and creased all over,
Whenever it is I know you shall not feel an inkling of compassion or penance and I think one day I will be alright with that.
An anonymous girl ©