I want this to end
please everything just stop!
I'm begging you oh! God
i can't deal with this

I want to cut myself so deep that all i  become is bone
I want to smash my head against the wall
make paintings with my blood
PLEASE STOP!

You tell me that you're concerned
but then why do you ignore me
like a pig on a street
is that what you think of me?

I'm done trying
My legs broken from carrying this pain
my windpipe punctured by the comments you make
My skin crimson form the cuts i create

I get hooked with a therapist
but instead of help ,all they blab is *******
that makes me question to my broken core
Am I going mad?

Can you ******* shut up
all i want is to be alone
all i want to be is held
by someone who loves me unconditionally

you say your love is pure
but is it? you manipulate me
I love you, but do you love me?
You made me question everything

Your ******* homophobic mindset,
its so revolting , I feel ashamed to be your son
You say no matter what happpens you are my son
but the very next second you spill your guts

I'm sorry i disappoint you constantly
I'm sorry, I bleed
I'm sorry, I'm weak
I'm sorry, would you ever forgive me?

Don’t move on rage, don’t vow on highs,
Feelings fade, and truth never lies.
We rushed through moments, thought they’d last,
But now all we’re left with is a broken past.

How am I?
How am I?
I am oppressed.
Here, I am not free
Or heard
Or respected.
Here, I am told what to do with my own body.

And I can’t help but wonder—
How dare they?
How dare they force me into a piece of cloth,
One they know I will disregard?
How dare they back me into a corner
And wrap me in a headscarf?
How dare they oppress me for my freedom
And cover me as if that's the answer?

Why punish the victim,
When that won’t stop the victor?
Why shun the abused
While glorifying the abuser?

How dare they expect me to listen—
How dare they,
When I have a fire that can’t be put out
Not even by my blood and tears.

You
ripped me open
like I was gift wrap around a bomb—
not a girl.
Tore through the softest parts of me
with hands that once promised safety.
Then smiled.

I bled silence.
I rotted in the hollow you made,
buried under memories you set on fire
just to warm someone else.

And now—
you greet me.
Smile like a Sunday stroll,
like you didn’t
shoot love point-blank
and whistle while walking away
from the grave you dug in my chest.

You left me
gasping in the dirt,
still calling your name
like it was a ******* prayer.
But you—
you were just the devil
dressed in second chances.

So don’t you dare look at me
with that crooked grin,
like I’m still the fool
you left in that pit.

You didn't break me—
you woke something
that will never sleep again.
And I hope
it haunts you.

I wasn’t crying.
I was hydrating my grief
from the inside out.

He said, “You’re not dramatic. Just detailed.”
I said, “You’re not cruel. Just consistent.”
We called that a compromise.
(or else a hostage negotiation.)

There’s glitter in my carpet
from a party I threw
to prove I wasn’t waiting on him.
I wore white.
Not bridal,
but still white enough
to make someone feel guilty.

I lit sparklers like sirens,
toasted survival.
Nobody clapped.

I collect apologies I don’t want,
write scripts for confrontations
that end in standing ovations,
then lose the footage
in a hardware crash
I secretly caused.

I take the stairs two at a time,
just to feel something chase me.
I text “I’m fine :)”
like it’s a safe word—
to keep the spiral
polite.

I rehearse the voicemail
he never left
like it’s Chekhov.
Like if I say it right,
the gun goes off
and I disappear
beautifully.

At the end of the dream,
he’s always wearing my hoodie—
saying something tender,
just slightly
too late.

And I wake up
with eyelashes on my wrists,
thinking—
Maybe I am the problem.
But God—
you should’ve seen the poems.