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He has sold you a **** story
Which you have grasped fiercely
And consumed, embraced, bought into.
What choice do you have?

I know for a fact that doubt germinates
From time to time
Because you know him,
But what choice do you have?
You want to believe.

So I'll leave you with his lies,
Sweet unseer.
If I could be a **** for him,
Then I can be one for you,
With a nobler purpose,
And a steelier resolve.
I will give you what you need,
As he can't and won't.
Believe, believe,
I can't, I don't.
When I was around nine or so my Father looked at me in disgust,
And said in a loud voice
"There are rolls of fat on her legs,
I've never heard of that before."
Poor Daddy wanted a perfect daughter,
And got a chubby social misfit with argumentative tendencies,
Combined with a complete disregard for anything as inconvenient as reality.
I wouldn't have chosen an alcoholic sociopath for a father, either,
So, hey, we're sort of even.
I have my father's temper, which disgusts me,
More than my legs disgusted him, I'll bet.
He knows that I don't like him,
I've never been able to please him, or impress him,
And I've never understood what made him so angry,
I'm angry, too, a lot of the time, but I would never look at my daughters with horror and scorn,
And coldly evaluate their physical shortcomings.
Everything about them is beautiful, everything.
What an *******,
Wish I didn't love him, so.
Remember when I asked you
To never forget that you are my friend?
You replied "and that's the most important thing".
Turned out not to be so important to you, didn't it?
You were happy to forget.
You have forgotten, easily, and without pain.
Remember when I told you I would hate it
If you were no longer part of my world?
That your friendship was so important to me?
You replied "It is for me, too"
Well, you could have fooled me.
You said that it was like an addiction.
Yes, it was, but you went cold turkey,
And somehow skipped the tremors and cramps and all the other painful ****
That goes along with kicking a habit,
While it nearly killed me,
I'm still in the heart of darkness, suffering,
And you don't care, you never did.
Saying all the right things,
Making all the right moves
To get what you wanted.
I'm glad you never got it, I'm glad that fate intervened,
I'm glad it was her that discovered our sordid little secret.
I'm sorry she has to live with you,
Sorry for me, loving a heartless *******,
Sorry for him, betrayed by his best friend,
I'm not sorry for you.
You are one sorry enough *******,
Pity is the very last thing you need.
I sat in your car,
Mentally preparing to return home, to try to save my marriage.
You made a fist with the hand that gripped the steering wheel
And lightly punched me on the upper thigh, twice.
"Good Luck" you said.
And I wanted to **** you.
I got out of the car, and walked away, without looking back.
I want you to eat me
until you are sick.
I'm not poison,
But too much of anything
Will **** you, in the end.
death never really scared me
it just never seemed a legitimate option
and now it is
and i dont care
how can i trust you
         not to **** yourself too

how can i get close to anyone
when i refuse to hurt anyone
when i **** myself
                      it'll happen eventually
         maybe it'll work this time
i hold onto the past
because he isnt in my future
and i cant see anything
hes dead
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