i hate the way my tears dirty my face
and they feel horrid on the tip of my lips
but at least it was anger
not a cause of my depressive state.
i was locked in my heart's cage,
screaming for death, his hands around
my neck and i'm screaming
"kill me" -
why the fuck am i still here?
i like the idea of dying and
smiling at the pain, laughing because
the pain is the only thing that
remains real.
His slap tasted good and felt like
fireworks.
I save sundays to starve myself and I want to
twist, i want to coil up and split
open my intestines and
die.
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