one cannot eat
in the comforts of her own home.
Oh, yes, That's right.
It's not her's.
She, the devil in disguise,
the one who commands you to cower at her mighty might,
the narcissism oozing out of her pores.
I literally just described every narcissistic villain mother figure out there.
Shall I start again?
When mad at somebody else,
you're her best friend.
While yelling her heart out,
she asks you to join.
You do it,
because it feels good.
Feels good that the monster's accepted you,
so you pretend.
you say a few things,
sneer a little,
watch her smile,
but when the time comes, and she's mad at you-
everything in the past,
is used against you.
You can't even defend yourself,
since it's all true,
you did say those things,
as of right now, my hand's a sweltering into an ugly red hue
marks on the back of my arm,
they're going to scar.
but it's not the physical one that's going to stay the longest,
but rather the words,
the blood running after the hurt.
But every time.
she brings me back to her side again.
i sincerely hope no one sees this, but if you do, keep reading.
i think i've stopped writing about romance and sappy **** like that because i don't think i have anymore compassion for that kind of thing anymore. i'm going to be honest here. no one knows the real me here. i can share...the gore and all the unfiltered ugly stuff that no one know or sees or should know. god knows the lengths some people will go to make me keep some of the secrets i write about, but i need to get them out, so i suppose this is fine right?