You say this place isn't a trap, that's it's meant to be our home and that I'm the one whom continues to keep myself in that prisoner mentality.
But it has been a few years and I still find this place to be a suffocating bird cage, with me trapped inside it, hoping to fly away when the door opens.
You make me infuriated.
You make me want to tear my pale skin apart as if it were paper.
I want to beat the wall bloody until my knuckles go numb and resemble that of a messy kaleidoscope.
You speak to me with words that claim yo be made of kindness but I still know about the poison that seeps through them.
After all
I'm not interested in forgiveness
I want you to see the consequences that come with your actions
Because just as some wounds never heal,
mine keep bleeding and I don't care about sewing them shut.
May 26th, 2019.
YOU ARE READING
In My Head
Non-FictionJust a place where I let the thoughts, ideas, tragedies, events and possibilities that thrive within me and the experiences I've lived be voiced and bear a place where others may understand them. •lower-case "i" intended •Cover made by me *Warning:...
