if god can sacrifice himself for his people's sake,
then i can sacrifice my somewhat well being to help the man that started this all.
for what feels like eternity now, the unbreakable grip i have had on his god ****** heart
had gotten tighter and tighter
to the point where it has become
something so opposite of a stress ball,
more like a therapy for the ill minded.
there are permanent indents of my own ****** clenched fists in his chest
from the many times i have screamed and cried begging to ask, "is this what you wanted?"
his voice only lingers with echoes of my misery but he still laughs at every single word that escapes my mouth.
i hope you read this and if you do,
look at the bruises on your chest and tell me, straight to my tear-dried, sober face that they do not burn after reading each word of this time wasting piece of trash.
consider this a eulogy for your mind and eyes.
i yield all my time to your blank stares, and stuttering breaths.


- m.n.