I hate the way you grab your hair while you're doing everything
the way you make me feel guilty about things I haven't said
or haven't done
the way you make my headache turn into a psychosis
the way you turn a scratch to a cut
the way you look so familiar
but so unknown

I don't like the books you read
they seem useless
they're not even fun
they make me feel like I'm useless to you

your ******* games
they're ******* with my head
******* with my mind
*******

did this poem just lost it's beauty because I said "****"?
I hope not