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The Untold
F/Somewhere in Africa    Poetry is a dance of the thoughts on paper ✍ poetry cleanses the spirit, heals the soul, refreshes the mind and heals the heart... Poetry …
19/Pittsburgh    I write. All credits to the work below belong to me.

Poems

vangouhl Jul 2015
he told me, "put out your cigarette."
i told him, "i just lit it."
he told me, "now."
i told him, "okay."

i asked him, "do i repulse you?"
he told me, "yes."

i asked him, "do i disgust you?"
he told me, "yes."

i asked him, "am i pathetic?"
he told me, "yes."

i asked him, "am i a bad person?"
he told me, "depends on who you ask."

he told me, "hurt me."
i told him, "i can’t."

i told him, "hurt me."
he told me, "easy."

he told me, "i love her."
i told him, "you’re a liar."
he told me, "i love you."
i told him, "you’re a liar."

he told me, "this is wrong."
i told him, "christ, i know."
he told me, "i can’t."
i told him, "pretty baby, i’m yours."
he told me, "you’re disgusting."
he told me, "come here."

he told me, "you’re repulsive."
i told him, "good."

he told me, "you’re disgusting."
i told him, "i know."

he told me, "you’re pathetic."
i told him, "i love it."

he told me, "you’re a bad person."
i told him, "i know."

he told me, "i want you."
i told him, "take me."

he told me, "*******."
i told him, "please do."

he told me, "**** me."
i told him, "i want it."

i told him, "**** me until i’m not sad anymore."
he told me, "i will."

he told me, "give it to me."
i told him, "here."

he told me, "let me give it to you."
i told him, "give it to me."

he whispered, "baby, you’re such a good girl."
i told him, "let me be your good girl."
he told me, "i want a bad girl."
i told him, "i’ll be bad for you."
i told him, "tell me how you want me and i’ll give it to you."

he asked me, "how bad are you willing to get?"
i told him, "as bad as you want me."

he told me, "you’d do anything i ask, you pathetic *******."
i told him, "i know."

he told me, "you need me."
i told him, "i know."

he told me, "christ, you’re pitiful."
i told him, "i don’t care."

i asked him, "do you like me like this?"
he told me, "no."
i told him, "you’re lying."
he told me, "i hate it."
i told him, "you love to hate it."

he told me, "you’re the devil."
i told him, "thank you."

he told me, "you and i both know that all you want is my approval."
i told him, "i love it when you’re right."

he told me, "you’re mine, and i’m not yours."
i told him, "i’m yours."

i told him, "i’m disposable."
he told me, "you are."

he told me, "i think you need to get naked."
i told him, "ask me nicely."
he told me, "get naked now."
i told him, "only because you asked me nicely."

he told me, "you’re literally nothing."
i told him, "i’m nothing without you."
he told me, "you’re nothing with me, either."

i told him, "take advantage of me."
he told me, "i already am."

i told him, "tell me you hate me."
he told me, "i hate you."

he told me, "tell me you love me."
i told him, "i love you."

he told me, "i don’t love you."
i told him, "i don’t care."

he told me, "i hate you."
i told him, "i love you."
he told me, "i love you."
i told him, "i hate you."

he told me, "i want you."
i told him, "i know."

i asked him, "how do you want me?"
he told me, "in every way possible."

he told me, "you want it."
i told him, "i know."
he asked me, "how bad?"
i told him, "you know."
he told me, "tell me."
i told him, "more than anything."

he asked me, "why is everything with you ****** now?"
i told him, "probably because there’s nothing else left."

he told me, "i don’t like it."
i asked him, "what do you like?"

i told him, "you like who i used to be."
he told me, "i do."

he asked me, "what happened to the girl you were?"
i told him, "she’s dead."
he asked me, "what happened to you?"
i told him, "i’m dead."

he told me, "get your ******* **** together."
i asked him, "why bother?"

he told me, "this is pitiful."
i told him, "i know."

he told me, "leave."
i told him, "no."

he told me, "you’re a wreck."
i told him, "****, i know."

he told me, "goodbye."
i told him, "okay."
i hate this poem.
filed under: but jesus christ, i've become so pathetic
What if my worst nightmare comes true?
What if I become what I most fear?
What then?
Do I end all, destroy all hopes of any kind of future and bring hundreds down with me?
Or do I embrace it, face the fear and ridicule and mockery and shame and embarrassment and the myriad of voices laughing, crying, screaming,
"I TOLD YOU SO I TOLD YOU SO I TOLD YOU SO I TOLD YOU SO I TOLD YOU SO I TOLD YOU SO I TOLD YOU SO I TOLD YOU SO I TOLD YOU SO I TOLD YOU SO I TOLD YOU SO I TOLD YOU SO I TOLD YOU SO I TOLD YOU SO I TOLD YOU SO I TOLD YOU SO I TOLD YOU SO I TOLD YOU SO I TOLD YOU SO I TOLD YOU SO I TOLD YOU SO I TOLD YOU SO I TOLD YOU SO I TOLD YOU SO I TOLD YOU SO I TOLD YOU SO I TOLD YOU SO I TOLD YOU SO I TOLD YOU SO I TOLD YOU SO I TOLD YOU SO I TOLD YOU SO I TOLD YOU SO I TOLD YOU SO I TOLD YOU SO I TOLD YOU SO I TOLD YOU SO I TOLD YOU SO I TOLD YOU SO I TOLD YOU SO I TOLD YOU SO I TOLD YOU SO I TOLD YOU SO I TOLD YOU SO I TOLD YOU SO I TOLD YOU SO I TOLD YOU SO I TOLD YOU SO I TOLD YOU SO I TOLD YOU SO I TOLD YOU SO I TOLD YOU SO I TOLD YOU SO I TOLD YOU SO I TOLD YOU SO I TOLD YOU SO I TOLD YOU SO I TOLD YOU SO I TOLD YOU SO I TOLD YOU SO I TOLD YOU SO I TOLD YOU SO I TOLD YOU SO I TOLD YOU SO I TOLD YOU SO I TOLD YOU SO I TOLD YOU SO I TOLD YOU SO I TOLD YOU SO I TOLD YOU SO I TOLD YOU SO I TOLD YOU SO I TOLD YOU SO I TOLD YOU SO I TOLD YOU SO I TOLD YOU SO I TOLD YOU SO I TOLD YOU SO I TOLD YOU SO I TOLD YOU SO I TOLD YOU SO I TOLD YOU SO I TOLD YOU SO I TOLD YOU SO I TOLD YOU SO I TOLD YOU SO I TOLD YOU SO I TOLD YOU SO I TOLD YOU SO I TOLD YOU SO I TOLD YOU SO I TOLD YOU SO I TOLD YOU SO I TOLD YOU SO I TOLD YOU SO I TOLD YOU SO I TOLD YOU SO I TOLD YOU SO I TOLD YOU SO I TOLD YOU SO I TOLD YOU SO I TOLD YOU"