I dread the words that will come out of your vindictive mouth
They hit me with the poisonous venom that’s made just for me.
The hit me in the stomach just as you intended
Seeping into the gaping wound you inflicted
traveling into my bloodstream
spreading straight into the vessels of my heart
pumping through my core
slowing the beat as it wraps it’s sick cruel-intended tendrils around me
Choking me into absolute oblivion
Strangling me to the point of tears
They stream down my face,
stained with the blood of dissapointed frustrations
dropping into pools at my feet
pools of broken hopes and dreams
meanwhile the tentacles lick it up
shrieking in laughter at my pain
howling in hatred of my existence
death would be a release from this
a gift.
That’s what I want for Christmas Dad.
Release me.