You throw it around like its feather light.
I can't count the times you used it on me-
1
2
3
4
5
….
oops I ran out of fingers,
and yet its still a joke to you.
Even after they DIED because of what you do.
Maybe its not just you,
but one
person leads to another
one
person makes a difference.
You do not have permission to use it like the RUG you wipe your feet on every time you walk in the door.
All of the dirt left to be BURDENED by its material.
Plot twist they are the rug-
every muddy shoe contaminating their fibers, being ingrained in their deepest threads.
Eventually it will be thrown out because it is no longer useful.
No longer purposeful.
You cannot just throw it around and expect no repercussions.
Plot twist-
Your mouth is a gun and it just fired bullets-
The bullets are the words you spit without thought, soaked in poison.
You are a toxic being,
and-
OOPS!
-theres goes another casualty.
Not your problem right?
You will always be the gun left loaded and off safety.

I am sitting calmly and quietly;
Not moving a muscle.
Inside my head, I am screaming at the top of my lungs.
Thrashing, kicking, punching.
I can feel the screams crawl up my throat and tickle my tongue.
I can feel my body tremble with the urge to let loose.
But I do not move a muscle.
Consequences are an ugly truth.
One I have dealt with, time and time again.
Now I let it build up, it eats at me.
Which is worse? I cannot tell...

It's so hard to be over someone that you once had in your arms
It's so hard to embrace the change and to understand you're gone
It's hard to forgive you for leaving in my time of need
It's hard to reject being torn apart by what once was you and me.

The only person to blame is yourself.
You believed his words.
You decided to trust him when everyone else said not to.
You stayed when everyone was screaming to go.
You had hope when really they just wanted to see you fail.
You made the choice.
& now you get to suffer the consequences.

TOO MUCH.
He’s awake now, struggling now, breathing now, living now.
And it’s too much too late, don’t know how much of this I can take.
There’s not enough of me left now.
Breaking seems evident, a tornado in a bottle’s neck.
Choking on the words left unsaid, I am ****** and I am dead.
Family’s fine, too much too hold. Too much to hope for.

You couldn't help, you’d be better off dead.
Been screaming on the inside,
words tumbling black and slick from broken lips.
Keep it in, keep it concealed.
They can’t know what you feel.
The demon’s back and I’m going under.
This storm won’t be contained anymore.
The tidal wave’s heading towards the shore.

I don’t have that much to give.
Take it all before I resist.
Too much too soon, too little too late.
Spread myself thin for the past few days.
Nothing left but stained glass hearts and swollen throats.
No outlet for a soul like mine. It’s too dark to find me inside.
The screams come louder bringing blood.
Sob on for every tear, where the forest meets it’s end. Cry on for the memories.
The grandson you can’t help, the child you let go to hell, the grand daughters you never knew.

This is your ending demon.
No time could ever make you wise,
what god are you to fall again?
This is your ending demon,
now you get to watch them die.

*You deserve this.