ðļ .poem
Like youâre there, holding me, I hate you so much it hurts.
I hate you.
I hate you.
I hate you.
I hate you.
Die
Die
Die
Die
I wish you could be someone else. Someone that could take care of me like I deserve. I guess weâre both selfish in that way.
You used me and manipulated me, I couldnât protect myself because I didn't trust myself.
That nagging feeling in my chest saying I wasn't safe with you, itâs taken all this time to realize I never needed you. You can't fill that void within me no matter how hard you try, because you have nothing to give yourself. That feeling of failure when I was around you, for expressing who I was.
I was a story to you, a story to be edited and commented on, altered, renewed, hated, reviewed. I was never a person, I was a workpiece for your own success.
I was never finalized by you.
And that stings.
You say I'm mature for my age, but itâs only because I had to raise myself.
Well you fucked other woman, i was suffering inside. I hope youâre happy, but i need to be happy too, i want myself to be happy more than anyone.
When I became the person you wanted to be, only then did you love me.
That person is dead because I've killed them. Tired of walking around aimlessly, I want to become someone I love to be.
And thank god you didnt raise me, i thank god every day you were too busy to give me the love i needed from a parent.
Because instead of your control, I have a person who loves and understands me more than anyone ever could.
Me.
This was not part of the plan. Iâm just a goal achiever. My purpose is nowhere beyond the expression of someone else's soul. I feel thereâs a shock collar around my throat, one wrong word and I'm out. What will he do when I don't play my role?
Will he hurt me?
What am I without these achievements? An achievement I don't want is all I've been chasing.
Iâm only here for your ladder. To help you through your life because you own mine. Thereâs a fence I can't cross and on the other side is my freedom after your death.
Somewhere in these streets is my happiness, I'm not controlled anymore. I don't have to be anything, I don't have to serve anybody. I donât have to do anything.
What's there to do?
I can learn how to dance, I can even do a split, I can move like Shakira, I can sing like Beyonce, I can play the guitar, shit I can even jump to the ceiling and pretend youâre watching me. Pretend youâre around to fill what you left inside of me. But I pour my heart out and bleed and the only person to clean me up is me.
But I still have to serve you. I pour and pour from an empty cup till my love is no good for anybody.
Murder and murder, stab and stab, blood after blood, person after person, those men are dead. I can laugh for hours about what I did to them.
You think I care?
Iâve never lived for me, I've never lived free. Iâve lived because I had to, and that's all Iâve ever known.
I donât trust him. There's a glass door between me and the person I so badly want to be accepted.
His love is earned, itâs a prize to be won and I'm the girl who's never good enough for him.
Iâm just the girl he didnât find worth getting hurt for. I was a pawn in this manâs game, and i don't want to play. I want to rest. I want to drift away. I want to be better.
I wanted to be the one to fix him so badly, but everytime i came back, thinking this relationship could be fixed. I came out again with tears. I realized soon enough that you couldn't show up for me, and when I kicked you out of my life because I'm sobbing, I'm cold, and alone and I have nobody, the only thing you can say is I wasn't helpful.
I enjoy crying, I like to pretend like someoneâs there, like someone cares.