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sar Jul 2013
When you get the news
that I've left swinging from a noose
to rid my head of not only the blood but
all the terrible thoughts
you put in
with your gun shots
of cruel words + icy empty eyes.
Don't you dare act like you
ever gave half a ****,
or like you'll miss my presence,
or how you'll crave
my skin upon yours again.
Don't you ******* dare
scream out to the world
how you miss me so
or explain how I'd lend you my broken pieces
to try + fix you + help you be less broken.
When I was truly the broken one -
broken into a million pieces -
inside + out.
No, please.
Please, don't you dare
leave just yet.
These are my last words.
Don't you dare interrupt me,
this time.
I beg,
it'd be best if you'd just shut the **** up.
+ listen to me,
for once.
Yes,
you're going to finally hear me out,
for once.
Just please,
I deserve to be listened to,
for once.
This is your fault.
I want or more so need you to know that.
I mean, you know everything else.
You knew I was broken.
+ you knew I was hurt.
+ you knew I was lost.
+ you knew I needed your help,
but I was not good enough.
I was too berserk.
Maybe what people say is true,
maybe people are worth more dead
than they were alive.
Don't you dare
put this paper down,
+ give up on me, again.
I've drained my heart + soul into this pen
+ I've allowed this pen to dance freely
on this piece of paper.
You will soak up every word,
for me.
+ taste every syllable,
for me.
+ I will be watching
+ I will be hoping
you fall apart
just as I did.
Comical how things work out,
isn't it?
sh, calm down.
Stop blaming my insanity.
Baby, you did this to us,
not me.
I'm so sorry.
I will not be vicious during your downfall
like you were towards me during mine.
I can explain this.
I can justify this.
I can show you why.
All the shattered pieces
that broke off of me.
I've decided not to destroy
these leftover pieces
like I've destroyed myself.
I want you to know
it wasn't easy
being alone
being casted out
+ feeling lower
than the mantle
+ I can tell
this may never make sense to you.
I knew it was ridiculous
of me to think
someone as perfect as you
could help someone
as helpless as myself.
+ I knew it was so ******* stupid
of me to think
someone as flawless as you
would actually give a **** about
someone as unimportant as me.
But I know that
I am a human being too
just like you
+ I know I deserve
love + attention too.
How dare you?
How dare you?
How ******* dare you?
How could you do this to me?
Look what you've done.
You took someone
who was already crushed
+ you picked her up
+ you allowed her to
feel a new type of rush,
but then what did you do?
You dropped her,
just like everyone else before you did.
I had the best of intentions.
When I met you
I thought to myself
yea
I will sneak a peek
+ maybe blush when he looks my way
so just maybe he will feel
the same rush.
But **** my intentions.
I meant well!
I truly meant well,
but look where that has left me.
I'm more lost than I was before
you came along.
Because let's forget my intentions
+ lets take a second
to question yours.
If you merely wanted to
smash + dash
you could have done so
but instead you got to know me -
the parts that weren't so pretty
touching things that were not tangible
+ tasting memories that were sour.
So,
yes when I was cut open
+ analyzed
+ the person I thought was perfect
didn't like what he saw
+ he just left
without suing me back up
without saying good-bye . . .
I was left,
bleeding out
+ feeling empty.
But now,
you understand what everyone means
by "she's insane,"
now you believe it too.
They made you believe
that I was insane
+ now I believe it too.
That's me, now.
I'm insane
through + through.
+ I cannot succeed
living in the same world as them.
So here,
I will sacrifice myself for you.
Because I realize it wasn't just you,
+ I need to decide who
I'll give myself to.
Because I can only give so much
of myself to strangers
who look as if
they need something to keep
them going
until I just stop.
+ I've decided to stop
to stop breathing
to stop living
to stop existing.
I'm donating myself to you.
Don't you dare
think this is me giving myself to you
as a way to show my love.
I would just hate to be wasteful,
+ I know you're broken.
+ I know you know
people do not belong to people,
so take my ashes.
I've left them all for you.
When you're feeling low
I know you'll
grab your smokes
+ I know you'll grab your coffee, too.
I know how you like to roll your own
because it makes you feel more at home.
+ I know how you like to brew your own
because it taste more fresh on your breath.
+ I know you'll be tempted
to throw my ashes in.
+ I'd like you to know
that I do not object.
I actually encourage it.
Because now you truly understand:
that it isn't easy
+ that it isn't our fault
+ that you're morbid, too.
Don't you dare
forget this.
sar Jul 2013
You've made me forget why I was so guarded,
+ you have made me forget how it felt
to be broken-hearted.
You've helped me remember how it felt to love,
+ you have helped me remember how one can feel
on cloud 9 + above.
But you see,
that was then + this is now.
Now everything is switched;
now everything is but a memory.
Your memories . . .
They're like toxic drugs:
they give me hallucinations of comfort + joy,
but they really hurt me, much more
than I already was.
Yet,
I choose to relive them in my head.
Your hugs. Your words. Your smile. Your scent.
Just please.
Please, make me forget you.
I do not want to remember.
I will not allow you to stay in me.
You made me remember what you made me forget
+ I did not see that coming.
My stupidity is no excuse.
You told everyone we were only "friends,"
so I suppose this is where that
"friendship," must end.
Because you're nothing.
Like a burnt-out flame or a forgotten memory.
You're nothing except history
that unfortunately had to repeat itself
for a reason I cannot explain.
But more importantly:
you're nothing to me.
Everyone knows history must happen
for us to learn
from the mistakes
from the past
so they will not reoccur.
But what you must understand is
this passage has happened to me
too many times + I'm afraid
I will never learn from my mistakes.
The only way out of this is to burn
the history book
or myself.
Which is easier?
I have not decided.

— The End —