I felt my body begin to shake. "You-you dddon't understand Jerome!" I stuttered. "I need to cut! I nnneed-need it!" Tears streamed down my cheeks. Jerome was right, I should be happy. Everything was perfect, but I couldn't accept it. For me, perfect and happy shouldn't be real, it was just smoke and mirrors.
------------------------------------------
Like an addiction,
inside my skin.
Hands shaking now,
will growing thin.
Ashamed and astounded,
for what I have done.
It seems that all pride is gone,
and depression has won.
I can't seem to shake this feeling,
I don't understand why.
Instead of being cheery,
I sit alone and cry.
I wish I could be grateful,
and stop being such a wreck.
Because I should be happy,
not trying to hang my neck.
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"Dad, I didn't kill her! I tried to save her but it was too late! I miss her just as much as you!" I sobbed, hot tears falling onto the floor. He came closer, and a look of fury was plastered to his face. "Little disease. You killed her!" He brought his hand back and punched me in the face. I cried out in pain. "P-p-please daddy! Stop!" He did it again and I laid on the floor and curled up in a ball. He kicked me over and over, and I screamed every time in agony.
---------------------------------------------
Full of rage and fury,
already damned to hell.
Is a father with a messed up head,
you can see he isn't doing so well.
He lost a child back a while,
and he blamed it all another.
He killed his wife in an angry strife,
of course he misses his lover.
No where to turn he kidnaps his daughter,
who in her last cry for help stopped him.
So he decides one big decision,
in the gloomy, empty, dim.
