I hate you

The sum of all my being can't describe this anxious resentment 
I have towards you

Its not that I'm being obsessive

I can get over you easily

Its what you did that I can't stand

You and your Hippocratic oath

And nonchalant  pessimism

Do you know how much I cared

Can you even conceive what you did

.....of course not

And you're not sorry for it either  

For the most part

In your mind

You did nothing wrong at all

I guess snakes don't feel bad when they constrict mice to pop and stay and that position till its heart stops then gorges itself without chewing

What a circle of life

But why me

What satisfaction did doing what you did make it ok

Is this humanity

Ever memory now scrapes at me

Atleast I can see the signs

To avoid another like you

Even though it's not so simple

You sickening peace of ****

You don't belong

You've taken a piece and given me something I didn't want in the first place

Now every time I see you smile

Or see you 

Even a picture

Or a phrase that sickens me to the point

Drugs are my only salvation

Just to keep the pain away

Just to take the pain away

But that doesn't matter

It never will


So on those nights when I ache in my chest in curl in a ball and wonder if I  can let go or pay you back

I wish sweet dreams to the ones you haven't hurt 

And it is as my face appears

It is mangled underneath by acid tears

My scars remind me of many things…
Some I want to remember and others I want to forget.
I am pure to the truth but I swell in regret.
Shame, pain, triumph, strength… scars represent.

There are no badges to wear;
I have no pride to hide.
I am not a product of the stories;
I refuse to be a prisoner of my descents.

The past is often forgotten...
Memories distort beyond recognition.
Scars will fade, darken, stretch and shrink.
But the deep ones stay; I still can’t forget.

Emotions dissipate... or so I thought.
But now I believe they simply hide
beneath layers of damaged skin...
keeping those scars painfully alive.

It isn’t protection; it isn’t healing.
No badge I’ll wear; no pride I’ll find.
Yes, these scars are mine…
But I am not my scars! And my scars are not yours.

To some, I am marked for life;
I cannot control their stereotypes.
I **** them and their forced opinions!
They thrive on my scars; they try to create new wounds.

Sometimes, I let you see my scars… but I am far from naïve.
I know I am giving you a temptation and a tool.
Don’t try to own me… you are a fool to think you know me.
The why, when, and how is my personal mystery.

I won’t let you look beyond the fragments;
Deep below the layered scars hides my truth.
I will not allow you entry; I am still afraid.
Self-inflicted wounds are far more acceptable.

I do not wish for more scars…
to add to my repertoire.
I do not wish for more adversaries…
to shove me back into the ground.

My past is mine and mine alone; it remains a part of me.
But despite the spite I feel…  
My past is not my present; my past is not my future.
And it certainly is NOT any of your business.

When you finally realise
that all your precious rhymes
were wasted
on flitting butterflies
you'll walk away embittered,
lonely, and out of time
with nothing but fading memories
like a phantom limb
of the heat that comes
from that someone else's hand
in yours.

Sometimes we succeed and sometimes we learn,
Every ounce of wisdom is something that we earn,
The pages of life they constantly turn,
So self judgment should soon be adjourned,
The doorway is open we need just endure,
Make sure to **** out all the negative allure,
A beautiful future is something we ensure,
Life is subjective by how we infer,
Anger, fear and resentment cloud our sight,
Things might go wrong but that's only a might,
Why think so low when you could take flight?,
Why love any less when it's a new height? ,
Switching perception can feel kind of strange,
Its practiced in aim not from your range,
It's less of losing and more of exchange,
For a better inner world to be self contained,
There we are for so long we've concealed it,
Door number 3 has finally revealed it,
A letter to our hearts and now we must seal it,
Don't think about feeling life and just feel it.

She read my journal
My internal thoughts spewed out of her mouth like *****.
Anger. Regret.

I saw him as a book then
And he was easily read
Flipping through his memories, I found tainted history
Tears

Oh, woe is me
this girl, she knows everything.
My incestuous mind
unkind and dark
genuinely written without hesitation

Yet here I stand
Confused, taken aback
Stricken with...
...curiosity, perhaps
Sadness and unknowing
And his eyes apologize while his frown regrets

Perhaps she now feels closer.
There's nothing to hide inside
A relief.
I am disgusted by your actions.

I wonder if he still loves me
He won't take the words back
Ink never erases, and scars remain
And so does my heart
Rooted to my sleeve yet chained to his palm

"I'm sorry", I forget to say
Words so typical end up filling the room
breaking all glass
You made me like this
my words are a byproduct of your insanity
You're sad.
Yes, sad. We are all sad.
You are not entitled to read such things
wretch

I peered into your soul today
Something twisted and half alive
Fault?
A face, my face to place blame
I'll never walk away
Without another war wound
But I'll bleed you dry
Should I question morality? Am I human?
What happened to us?

You seek knowledge, yet cower in its presence
" all loving" I mock the idea
for you despise my words.
My work.
What are they, but a part of me?
Your voice is timid
Your despair, unsettling..
speak

Silence is all I want to hear anymore...

What kind of person
Asks to be a muse?
A sick kind of person; a sadist
But I suppose I like that
Because I keep finding them.

It’s something you can’t attain
But want more than life
That creates art.
What kind of person would want anyone
To hurt that badly?

She stripped me down and sprayed me.
I was naked between two fans, freezing.
She tied me to a chair in a dim room.
Decades of hatred and punishment for being born.
She was bitter.
Her heart was cold.
She could never accept love, not even a friendly hug.
Manipulating the ones she loves.
But I never held it against her.
Years of resentment lead to years of substance abuse and clandestine disloyal-ties.  

With feet in the sink, the plunger seal cracks.
And the color drained from her eyes.

I try to remember the "good times."

Just to realize I'm drowning,
Drowning on Hallmark lines

Remembering the "good times"
Smiling complacently
Drowning on Hallmark lines

And I realize the memories
Were all good

One lines.