The Envelope

May 5, 2008
It's only to love me.
To heal me.
I wish they wouldn't hold me
tight everytime they see me.
I'll get it on them. . . this filth
of mine. When will I learn?
I'm so sick. Feed my body to
this burning flame.
Hide the ashes.
I thought I was strong
enough. . .
How did this ever come to be?
It's all my fault. I let
it come. And it was all
for someone. . . who
didn't even care.
I slithered right in
and snatched up his
decites and gave them
to you. . . Did I ever. . .
get thank you?
I've never done anything right.
I'm not even good at simply
being a daughter. Did you
ever ask? Did you ever wonder?
Those long pauses I took. . .
Even if you knew. Would you
even care?
Oh, for what can I say?
To this day?
You fail to see the disease
in me.
And when your lips part to speak,
it is never to love.
And you now dare take his verbal blows?
He tore into my mind and haunts me
every night. Those dirty eyes.
Those sick black curls.
He's fooling you.
How can you buy into these lies of his?
Now, I'm forever scarred with
this. . . flesh.
Taking up every inch of me.
Don't lay a hand on me.
I'm so dirty. So sick.
I look at myself and see this
filth coating me. I try so
hard everyday to clean this off.
No, water pure enough to wash
these sorrows away. . .
Let me go! I'll burn and
tear this skin away. This filth.
It's everywhere.
In my skin.
In my veins.
Even in these breaking bones.
Can't you see it?!
Can't you hear it?!
God, it's so loud that
everyone else knows. . . except you. . .

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