Thursday, December 3

Outbreak



Thinking, thoughts of pain.
Betrayal, guilt, lies.
Grinding teeth, fists tightening,
Struggling against their tight grips,
Struggling to find anything,
Anything to hit my head against.
No life, no forgiveness.
Die. Die.
No more memories of what happened,
What they said happened.
I loved him. I loved him to death.
Just wanted to talk,
Because daddy never had time,
Just wanted to talk.
Pills and blades and bile and,
And cold stone floor to hit my head.
Stinging pain.
They loosen their grip.
Breathing, deeply, sleeping.

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