She Says
***DISCLAIMER: THE "GUN" IS METAPHORICAL!!! >___< ***
Kudos to me for actually posting this poem. It's mega-personal and mega-dramatic and EVER SO SLIGHTLY emoic.
Here goes...
***
She says
You’re not worth it,
You’re a freak
You’re not important
You didn’t matter
You were never anything.
She points, shrieks, laughs
she paints worthlessness
across my face.
And I believe her
And hell begins.
Torture time.
Pain is the best escape
Because I deserve it
And she was right.
Each bruise is an accomplishment
However pitiful.
For months,
I cry, lost in self-loathing
Sparked
By her ruthlessness.
Nowhere to turn to
I say to myself,
You deserve this, you know.
And I hate myself.
Because she’s right.
And at this point
He’s a fragment in my mind
Buried in the universal chest,
black and worthless
as my self-esteem.
A series of words
Drags him out.
You’re worthless, she says.
But he knows better.
He makes me sob
And lower my fist
And stall the next blow
Long enough to feel
Invigorated.
Before I strike again,
He whisks me away
From her reflected sneers
Through the parade
Where he lifts up my chin.
‘This is the world.’ He says.
‘It’s yours.’
And every word his lips carve
Escape straight from my heart,
A dusty book
He rescued
from the fireplace.
I flood him
In the light of my adoring eyes,
Until our ashes
crumble beneath our feet.
And I find myself
Back on earth.
There she is.
Now that I know the truth,
I can scream at her
Hip Hip Hooray!
With a bloody gun
Pointed at her deserving head
He spurs a hesitation
‘Don’t pull the trigger.’
He whispers
Into my ears
Through miles of sound
As I break down
And I know he’s right.
So I rebel now
With what I say,
What I wear,
What I listen to
And the posters on my wall
But the gun
Is his now
And I can’t face those eyes
To ever want it back.
And she will never,
EVER,
Destroy me.
***
Thanks for reading, I know it's long...
This poem is based on an awful period of my life, stretching over 2-3 years, when a 'friend' made me literally suicidal, and MCR helped me out of that. I still blame her for every smidgen of insecurity I have about myself. But, no matter how much I hate her, you should NEVER act out in violence, right? =)
Kudos to me for actually posting this poem. It's mega-personal and mega-dramatic and EVER SO SLIGHTLY emoic.
Here goes...
***
She says
You’re not worth it,
You’re a freak
You’re not important
You didn’t matter
You were never anything.
She points, shrieks, laughs
she paints worthlessness
across my face.
And I believe her
And hell begins.
Torture time.
Pain is the best escape
Because I deserve it
And she was right.
Each bruise is an accomplishment
However pitiful.
For months,
I cry, lost in self-loathing
Sparked
By her ruthlessness.
Nowhere to turn to
I say to myself,
You deserve this, you know.
And I hate myself.
Because she’s right.
And at this point
He’s a fragment in my mind
Buried in the universal chest,
black and worthless
as my self-esteem.
A series of words
Drags him out.
You’re worthless, she says.
But he knows better.
He makes me sob
And lower my fist
And stall the next blow
Long enough to feel
Invigorated.
Before I strike again,
He whisks me away
From her reflected sneers
Through the parade
Where he lifts up my chin.
‘This is the world.’ He says.
‘It’s yours.’
And every word his lips carve
Escape straight from my heart,
A dusty book
He rescued
from the fireplace.
I flood him
In the light of my adoring eyes,
Until our ashes
crumble beneath our feet.
And I find myself
Back on earth.
There she is.
Now that I know the truth,
I can scream at her
Hip Hip Hooray!
With a bloody gun
Pointed at her deserving head
He spurs a hesitation
‘Don’t pull the trigger.’
He whispers
Into my ears
Through miles of sound
As I break down
And I know he’s right.
So I rebel now
With what I say,
What I wear,
What I listen to
And the posters on my wall
But the gun
Is his now
And I can’t face those eyes
To ever want it back.
And she will never,
EVER,
Destroy me.
***
Thanks for reading, I know it's long...
This poem is based on an awful period of my life, stretching over 2-3 years, when a 'friend' made me literally suicidal, and MCR helped me out of that. I still blame her for every smidgen of insecurity I have about myself. But, no matter how much I hate her, you should NEVER act out in violence, right? =)