I never did like the way you would swing around my house in the middle of the night.
Most of the time I didn't know what to say,
That thief and I.
That boy outside my window when I'm trying to stay sane.
I hate you.
I really do.
And my bruises fit your finger prints like a glove.
I was too young.
I'm too young know.
And you were too raw and worn and burned.
I was never meant to see.
As your finger pushed through my spine.
You said rules didn't apply to you.
You were dark clouds.
You put the glass in my eyes.
You called me and bit curses through my skin.
Sometimes you crouched over me like a cage.
You were the boy on the ground with stones in your hands.
Waiting to knock me out.
Hate is a strong word.
You were too strong.
You were too much.
You were the weight of concrete filling my mind.
And the taste of regret.
I swear I wake and find you hiding in the back of my eyes.
You left me beneath a streetlight with blood in my finger nails and cracks in my mind.
You are nothing.
And I don't know what I am anymore.
I don't know what to do.