before the darkness, when I was 5, my mother would **** me to sleep with her sullen lullabies. they were always about a woman who had nothing but self-hatred. her words were as haunting as my father seems to be and he’s been gone for 12 years. the woman my mother would softly sing about was this Demon she befriended at 16, named ****. **** was nice to her for awhile, maybe even a saving grace until she stole the happiness from her and dyed her life the dullest color. i figured it was a somber lullaby with a stronger meaning that no one but her could understand. ive had enough running into offices that smell like spoiled milk and blood. “It won’t **** you like you think it will”, mom always told me. she says this while looking at the decorations covering half her body along with my ****** hands, knees and bruised lips. your friend **** has a way of picking fights with you; making the walls at 3am rock like we’re on a boat during a storm, you’re trying to get saved by screaming their names while I’m laying here trying not to get sea sick from your abandonment. all I can hear now are your heartless moans of forever