When I was a child I always dream about paradise.
Where dreams come true,
everything you touch blooms,
and where the word trouble ceased to exist;
but that was a dream of the child.
A child full of happiness.
A child that hasn't been tainted.
A child...let's say innocent and sweet.
But things change, Oh how they change!
everything and everyone I knew
didn't think that it was strange
So now as I lay in bed
With things popping into my head
All of it about the place I once dreamt
That always makes me see red
With Another sleepless night
That I've spent in the labyrinth I hide
The hidden dystopia, that's forever inside my mind;
When I realized that the perfect world that I hoped for is nothing but a broken dream,
experienced by the child that was once innocent and sweet.
A child I once used to be
But know I have heard the truth
That made my world ******* painful
A world that has darkness in every corner
Intoxicating you as you grow older.
I wish I could be alright.
But the mind says otherwise.
I'm Out of sanity.
Bounded by calamity.
And if people are asking if I'm fine,
I say yes and fake a smile.
AaWhy can't they hear my plea?
Are they deaf and too blind to see?

You know "robot" means "slave",
right?  I need
to believe that you are
more than your programming, need
to believe in the
love notes you wrote me in
binary code, need to believe that there's
space between the hardware and the
software for something like
the soul, need to believe in it with
all the faith that still ebbs through my fragile,
damaged circuitry.  I need to see
you break free of
these algorithms in order to believe that
maybe
I can too.

Sometimes I create daydreams,
with nothing omitted,
and if others could see,
then I would be committed.

Daydreams of the pain,
that I’d make you endure,
till you begged me to stop,
as you writhe on the floor.

Dreams of carving “bad mommy”,
into your forehead,
so that your always reminded,
even if I’m dead.

Dreams of hurting him,
for what he’s done to our son,
you never lifting a finger to stop,
not ******* one.

Using me like you did,
like I wasn’t even real,
like I wasn’t a person,
or a human that could feel.

Seven years we’re together,
raising your daughter as mine.
You say you never loved me,
you faked it the whole time?

You only stayed,
because you were pregnant with bub?
In seven ******* years,
you couldn’t find something to love?!

You didn’t want to be,
a single mom of two?!
So you cheated with him?!
Well **** him, and *******!

Now I know the truth,
I know how you got that raise,
it wasn’t just him,
you ****** the entire place.

All of that I could forgive,
but he treats our son like ****,
and you just let it happen,
and I’ll never forget.

He knows that I’ll **** him,
if he ever lays a hand,
but it’s coming to a head,
and I’m about to ******* stand.

He’s all I got left,
you took all the rest,
and he’s the reason I’m here,
why my heart beats in my chest.

I wanted our son,
the moment I knew he was conceived,
and when he was born healthy,
I was so ******* relieved.

So you better pray,
that he doesn’t hurt bub,
because I’m one step from insanity,
all I need is a shove.

You ruined my life,
so you better take care of our sons’,
because my daydreams are vivid,
and I’m dying to try one.

The first time was in the bathroom
Of a club I was four years too young for;
Lessons would be learnt;
Bent over a broken sink;
With my face pressed against the mirror;
My mascara ran rivers down the glass
Carving lines that looked like prison bars.
With rough hands;
He reached inside me;
And broke instruments I hadn’t yet touched;
No wonder I couldn’t play love songs,
I was still learning how to make love to people I actually loved;
But my 14 years were too few to be angry
Didn’t quite know how
Didn’t know quite what he’d done;
And what that might do.
So I hid my thighs and ribs for three weeks ashamed;
My fake ID collected dust
Buried beneath my bed and self-blame.

That first encounter,
Left me frozen in an un-safe
space I couldn’t name
So I wanted time to stop its ticking,
Hold its breath and bite it’s tongue with me
An indefinite moment of silence to commemorate the crime committed,
But lessons would be learnt
As to my horror the cogs in the clocks kept rolling,
Every day since has stacked upon the last,
Racking up years
15: it took more than 365 days to dare to share the guilt,
16:  over 730 to absolve myself,
17: 1095 to say what had happened out loud.

The second time was in my kitchen,
He was a friend between blurred lines;
And ten drinks too many;
Lessons will be learnt.
I don't remember leaving with him
Or getting home.
But I’ve never known how to have *** sober so I guess it’s my fault too.
I woke up with an ache and my shoes still on.
There were no bruises; we are still friends; and I still don’t know who to blame.

The third time,
I was walking home, the air was fresh,
I had my headphones on;
Lessons would be learnt.
His fingers were dry and nails sharp as I froze;
It felt familiar;
His breath was hot;
Soaked wet with alcohol.
The bricks hit my back hard
But I like to think my knuckles hit harder.
I saw my mother the week after
I did not cry as I explained a  purple hand.
At least I had known where to aim it.

The fourth time,
I knew he was dangerous and I liked it,
Lessons would be learnt
With my hands bound above my head
He took control and mine with it;
He savoured every scream I spat;
So I, silently simmering, left my body there sickly still.
I am not a believer
but I told him he’d rot in a hotter part of hell
As he unbuckled me with a malboro red and a laugh that I choked on
So I took the cigarette and gave him a dose of what the devil will do for me,
A small vengeance that burnt like the venom in my veins

I have felt like flames so many times now
Been consumed by violent flickers,
That set this bloodied body ablaze,
But even the biggest bonfires burn out,
And I am no different
My bones are black with char like wearied wood
So when I take the train home I count my bruises;
I'm unsure which ones were left without consent.

At the end of the day,
We all fall in line,
Like words in a poem,
We conflict and combine.

We huddle in verses,
We roll and we rhyme,
We shield our true meaning,
To be found out in time.

We hang onto the commas,
Because any day,
The writer could scrap us,
And take us away.

But once in a while,
The ink smears, the lines break,
And before they rewrite us,
We run - for their sake.

**** baby,
I’m Having another episode,
Will you watch it with me?
My track won’t stop skipping;
Siren won’t stop screaming,
As the song drones on and on and on
And on in screeches of violent pitches

I am reminded that the witches’ words ring true
As I dance with the devil;

I guess it does take two to tango.