twenty one.

you're disgusting.

you did it.
you're a "good" person.
how does it feel? being l0ved?
you're so proud of yourself, aren't you?

but you know what?
you're still disgusting.

someone like you should kill themselves.
honestly

you're despicable
dependent on a thing called l0ve
it's something you'll never return
and it's something you'll never deserve

poor little girl
was never given
any l0ve
so you have to give me
all of yours

poor little girl
doesn't even know
how to l0ve
so you can't expect any
of it back

you've got them right where you want
you've got all the excuses
"I have depression"
"I'm broken"
"I'm not okay"
it's all about you

just kill yourself already.
you make me sick.

twenty.

you ran away.
but you'll always come back to this.

you hate mirrors
they show you what you don't want to see

so thin.
but you need to be thinner
so you can waste away
stop
existing.

hair falls across your face.
good
that way you don't have to see how ugly it is
and the bags beneath your sunken eyes
from crying crying crying
all the time.
(grow up)

in the darkness you can't see
but you can feel them
you remember
slashing
crying
hating
and when you stopped
you lay there
arms outstretched
wondering what they would say
wondering if they knew how much those words hurt
and wondering how you became their words.

how much longer until they see what you see?

someone broken
someone screaming

lashing out
hurting
pushing everyone away
("you're like a constantly ticking bomb. I never know when you're going to explode. It scares me, ***. You scare me.")
taking their pain
no one deserves to be hurt
except you
you're already broken

I'll hurt you
and in the end
you'll hate me
and if you won't




I'll make you hate me