you think you get to tell me how content you are
you judge how i'm not up to your standards
you let me know that i'm wasting your time
i'm ungrateful to you
weona de mierda.
and the thing is,
you wanted to say it,
you got mad and then you got the
sweet release of communication
and i listened to you.

maybe i'll only hurt myself by not telling you
the ******* you're putting me through
maybe it only hurts me as i rip the skin from my cheeks
as i avoid locking eyes with
twist and twitch at the sound of
panic at the mere thought of going.
but maybe i'll drive you crazy in return
if i let you know gesture by gesture
that i hold no love for you.

and maybe killing myself is only a dream where i hurt you
because i still want you to know this pain
the one i had to swallow
while your demons sculpted into me
a void which would eat me up
leave me with nothing but dissociation for years to come
no one to hold on to but a broken family
siblings barely staying afloat
in selfishness
in supporting a mother
that would no longer be a lover.
your weight amongst theirs,
it came with the most shame.

i'm childish
i know that,
but there's something about you
that makes me want to hate you
and it drives me to falling asleep thinking
that i could just
fill my pockets with rocks and jump
the golden.

i've been dreaming of seeing you
through a blank stare
blood mixing in with your tears.
i can't help but
wanting to hurt you back
so you'd be forced into understanding
everything that hasn’t been making sense to you.

in your eyes i was a circus beast that needed to be broken,
you cracked your whip and expected obedience.
i didn’t budge
so you stomped on my back
on the gravely confusing love i felt for you
on the expectations of a family that would've supported you
had you just asked.

you couldn’t imagine the lengths to which
i hurt myself
to match the scars you left,
what continues to be worse than your actions
is the ripple that forced me
to keep carving that pain into my own skin.
i manipulated those who would double the damage
i offered to them on a platter
bricks to hold me down
as the sliver that was left of the real me quietly rejected
what i was willingly agreeing to.

i guess,
i'm walking backwards on a journey of forgiveness,
because i said out loud that i forgave you.
i didn't expect things to ever be different
i gave up on the idea that you could ever change
after the hundredth time you begged for a second chance,
all teary eyed
*******.
but i forgave you.

and then you tell me
you're happy,
and i'm ungrateful.