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It's not Hell if you like the way it burns, you're right. It comforts me. To see you suffer there. You never listened to me anyway. so, good luck finding your way back to let them forgive you.
I killed a part of me to keep you alive, but it turns out, you went behind my back and betrayed me.
I want you to know but I will never tell you
how it happened so quickly.

how you ruined our family.
over your child's baseless information.
over granny's nanny's useless explanation.
you broke my trust.
I am mad at you.
but still, I wished you well.
I wish you well, in Hell.
father, are you scared of your own kind?
maybe you forgot about it, perhaps.
let me refresh your memory for you...
I thought I was your favorite, your little innocent girl
but I was sexually abused, took advantage by a guy
after that, you disgust me
I thought you accepted me for who I was
but I was misunderstood.
are you afraid of me? you created the monster out of me,
and I am that monster you created
fear not. I am not a weapon.
I am not a murderer.
I am a child, seeking for attention and love. once.
who needs a gun when I can turn my pain into words,
I hope they bleed you, rip your heart apart
you left me in pain for a year and a half in a prison
because you cannot control me. not anymore.
you cannot brainwash me. no more.
you asked me, "how did this sweet girl grew up to be a heartless horrid creature?"
but I was never born, I was created. I was a monster by painful experiences.
"Go to hell" oh bruh, where did you think I came from.
"There is a devil among us" fear not. do not be afraid by your kind, you mirror me for I am not a devil, but a monster.
Alas! I am everything you cannot control. remember that.
because I was once a child, an unwanted child. begging for her parents a time, a dime and attention.
woe! a second child I was, the path I walk on is all bumpy and steep
never straight and easier to walk on
I remember all of them. I remember the ***** they said, the ***** they do. If I spoke too soon, I'd be in a mental hospital by now.
sane or not. this is the old me from years ago.
this is the old me from years ago.
everything in life is a phase. let that **** go
be the love you never received.
be the comfort your loved one needs.
be the light in someone's dark days.
you can be all that. if you want to be like that.
it is tiring but rewarding and fulfilling at the same time.
P.S Be careful when you do—if you keep giving without receiving or resting, you’ll end up burning yourself out -Lostling
she
cat got your tongue?
her tongue is venomous when triggered,
her tears are her serum
she might rip your heart, when she speaks harshly without thinking
experience is her best teacher
scared of a little threat? nah. all her life, she is living in a threat
you can't scare her, she might taunt you
try it, point a gun on her head, she might do the favor and pull the trigger for you.
she is fearless when mad, don't test her limits.
she is kind when you are kind, rude when you are
don't be mad, she just mirrors what you do
scared to taste the bitterness of your own medicine?
she is just warming up, she was never in the exciting part yet
we were still here in the rising action, waiting for your fall like
of Babylon
if she wants to, she would...
like, she jumped out of the fence to run away
she ran away from home and never returned once again
she is a rebel but a softhearted one
she chose to be like that, for the cruel world is like that
An unheard explanation waiting to be heard is enough for an amount of silence traded for peace of mind.
Do we really need to know everything at all costs?
What costs us when we heard unspoken truth unfolding right before our very eyes,
heard by what our ears supposedly should not hear,
gives us pain and suffering in return.

maybe it is better to let it be.
known or unknown.
heard or not
seen or not
tangible or intangible.
does it matter? or does it not?

questions are quite tricky that was stuck in the corner of my mind
is it worth it or is it not?
to be or not to be? that is the question.
maybe Shakespeare seems to be offended of me for stealing Hamlet's dialogue
just like this poem, I intended to write it
to let my mind wander free here on Hello Poetry

sometimes, I consider myself as a cloud.
I am quite emotional. I cry a lot.
I am softhearted and sensitive.
I hate it. I go soft for things that are sincere.
I hate petty things to be fought over.
I love music, I love poems and songs
in short, I love literature.

it feels like I am stuck in a wrong era, in a wrong world
in a wrong generation, in a wrong century
everything in my life feels so wrong.
I have always wondered that when I speak up with whatever I feel right now, they seem too close-minded and never listen to what I say
They tend to make alibis or create reasons, criticize me badly.

But when I am silent, my silence speak for itself. They could easily understand my ****** reaction, my body language and how I am silent when they ask me.
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