SAVE ME // POETRY & PROSE

ixxx. pretty little bloody fingers

IXXX. PRETTY LITTLE BLOODY FINGERS

i will not allow you to shame me for being made of more prickly thorns than delicate bright pink petals, simply because you hide your thorns underneath a thousand layers of plastic worn out petals – what if they see your true essence? the coldness inside you cannot be known, only injected into those close to you in small doses, so their petals begin to fall off, being replaced by blood red tinted thorns of your creation, and soon you all look the same, they all look like you, you are one, one heartless being masked by the face of a glass doll dressed in pretty things.

if only you knew, that these thorns damage me more than anyone else and whenever i try to cover them up they just turn into the sharpest claws, clawing away at my skin and insides, making me bleed in a way only i feel – only i see the blood and only i suffer.

don't try to tell me who to be or how to be. i am not you and you are not me, so neither of us has the right to tell each other in what to believe.
to hell with your pretty little white lies, to hell with your pretty little figure that leaves every single human craving for you and to hell with your brain, which is perhaps the most plain, awful thing i have ever had the distaste of knowing.

you will grow old and your glass house will begin to shatter. the glass doll you so intensely pretend to be will be left on the shelf, dust and solitude turning into your new best friends ( and only acquaintances ). aren't isolation and ruin pretty little feelings?

and me?
i will have a throne, built on the blood, sweat and tears that i have shed all throughout the years, and my thorns will remain intact, yet in the same amount as my flaming red petals ( i burn inside, with rage, and fire and love, and it shows ). i will be strong and most importantly, i'll stop surviving ( off uncertainty made chains and fear of the unknown ) and start living ( off smiles of new acquaintances and a thrive for adventure ).
my veins are no longer overflowing with toxicity, instead calmly oozing with victory ( i won both the battle and the war. battle with you, war against me. )

-- who would have imagined this:
you are in your ruin
and i am finally at peace.