The Little Girl Next Door

I came to you, but you helped her, and instead threw bricks at me. When I talk to you, I thought you listened; when you opened your guarded door, I ran forth with her ahead, beating me to it. You welcomed her, and slammed the door on me. I try to make myself think you care. But most of the time, when you seem so kind, you're being an Angel to her, and killing me. When I start to show, you raise your guns, and shoot into the eyes ahead; making holes and gaping wounds that strive to wake the Demon within. Then you go back to your daydream, so kindly yet so fake, with the little girl you force me to portray on myself. You act blind, like a bat, but really your eyes are closed, as you float in your Sea of hatred and ignorance. When will you open your eyes, and see that that is her, and this is me. I'm tired and restless of being split in two; for now you are trying to make me one with her, as I become one with me. I must go on now, and continue my journey of fully becoming me, and wearing, not just showing, my true colors. For you can choose nothing and have your daydream, or you can choose me. But, you see, your daydream won't work as well without me. It may be a long Journey ahead, but I choose me.