GypsyPriestess
12-30-2005, 12:19 AM
Bleeding
The knife in my hand is your hatred
A bitter blade thrust into my skin
I want to kill you
I want to die
Slice the skin and let it out
All the years of you
Telling me over and over how worthless I am
I hate you
Blood on my hands
Its mine not yours
Damn it all
Do you see it in my face
My rage
My pain
Does it show when you look at me
Or do you see only the worthless little shit
You so often called me
Am I to you now a nightmare
Do you fear me as I feared you for years
Or am I still of less importance to you
Than the gum you scrape off your shoe at the end of the day
Damn you
Words can cut me
Far deeper that this knife
Words will kill me faster than loss of blood
Could ever do
Your words
Every time I think I may have made you understand
You turn your back on me again
All I ever wanted
Was your love
But you had nothing to give me
All I ever needed was your approval
But I got your scorn, your ridicule, your malice
Now it’s cut into my skin
The memory of how little you think of me
Carved into the flesh you so often maligned:
MOM
The knife in my hand is your hatred
A bitter blade thrust into my skin
I want to kill you
I want to die
Slice the skin and let it out
All the years of you
Telling me over and over how worthless I am
I hate you
Blood on my hands
Its mine not yours
Damn it all
Do you see it in my face
My rage
My pain
Does it show when you look at me
Or do you see only the worthless little shit
You so often called me
Am I to you now a nightmare
Do you fear me as I feared you for years
Or am I still of less importance to you
Than the gum you scrape off your shoe at the end of the day
Damn you
Words can cut me
Far deeper that this knife
Words will kill me faster than loss of blood
Could ever do
Your words
Every time I think I may have made you understand
You turn your back on me again
All I ever wanted
Was your love
But you had nothing to give me
All I ever needed was your approval
But I got your scorn, your ridicule, your malice
Now it’s cut into my skin
The memory of how little you think of me
Carved into the flesh you so often maligned:
MOM