I hate my words for most of all the time
So much so, I'll deny they were ever mine.
I put pen to paper with high hopes
That seeing the ink bleed will keep me from the ropes.
I am unnecessary; I am not wanted
A simple body-- living, yet haunted.

There are these memories from years ago
Of a little girl trembling between each blow.
She swears up & down, & left to right
Never again to sleep at night.
She would rather be up for weeks
Than awoken at night to floorboard creeks.
She swore for the future & to the stars above
Never ever to let herself love.

As for now, I still stay awake each night,
& think of how to continue solely on spite.
I like to imagine what I might be
If you hadn't done what you have to me.
Just picture what I could achieve
If this hatred inside would only leave.