I wanted to start writing again
I couldn't think of what to write about.
But the only reason I stopped writing was you.
The reason I'm writing again is you.
I fucking hate you with every ounce of my being.
I don't feel anything anymore except hate and anger.
You took my life away & somehow you keep finding more of me to take away.
This isn't a poem.
What you did to me isn't fucking poetic.
I could have been happy.
The only time I'm content is when I'm alone in my room listening to music.
Living in fear is no way for a 16 year old to live.
Sometimes I want to swallow every pill in the cabinet.
Sometimes I want to run into a busy road.
I scar my face & arms because I don't know where to put all my hurt.
No one is here for me when I'm bad.
I have a lot of fucking problems because of you.
Sometimes I doubt what you did to me because I don't want it to be true.
I have no one to talk to but myself.
I talked my damn self out of anorexia & suicide but I can't talk myself out of this.
{copyright 2018 madame-santana.}