What You Have Done

I was weak and pathetic. I see that now that I look back on the pain I allowed you to inflict on me, now that I'm scarred in the worst way possible. It's not just the scar tissue that so blatantly show on my foot and my forearm. It's the mark that you left even deeper that makes me toss and turn inside my mind in agony, but that's not all I feel, is it? You made your way farther than just my skin and my already destroyed innocence. You left a need in me, a burning, searing need, deep within my very being. You distorted every thought, every dream, every want. You morphed every brain wave within my skull into your own disgusting fantasies. I guess you would dare to say that it was my fault, would you not?


It was my fault that I led you to believe that I was strong, but I did not lead. I would never march ahead with such a horrid band behind me! What honor does that hold? It holds none. So why must you continue to pester my thoughts with images of erotic nothingness; love with no binds and hope with no idol. That is the world that you have pushed me into yet I feel no regrets for what you've done. What I allegedly did. Oh, how must I go on with the fiery guilt you've planted deep into my skull? 'Tis a wilted bud. The beauty of such a sour seed has no place deep in my mind. There is nothing there to nourish the guilt.





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