you screamed so loud that even my demons were shaking and whimpering on the ground;
you pushed me against the wall of questions which even i couldn't answer;
"stop doing this to the people who care about you"
you mean the one who are such good actors that they even managed to fool my scars;
"why can't you just be happy with everything you have got?"
you mean the pastel paint to draw myself a fake smile and celebrate;
"you are sixteen goddammit! stop acting like you are depressed"
why? is it an illegal age to feel this way;
isn't this what you always said?
you screamed and screamed. voice so loud . deafening vowels and consolations escaping your mouth.
you wanted me to vomit my feelings and make myself vulnerable;
didn't you?
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so instead,
i started to bleed out the words from the cracks i had gifted myself.
the red ink dripped from every escape it could manage to flow through;
my eyes. my ears. my mouth. my nose. from every single gap.
why did you start taking your steps back and watching me with a frightening stare?
don't be scared,
isn't this what you wanted? to know how i feel?
come back and listen to them.
them, who are waving their path out of me.
them, who you wanted to scare.
them, who i would always save.
them, my demons.
they are back again.
