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ripthesmileoffyrface · 9 months
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I hit you in the face when I was 10 years old. To wake you up. You didn’t wake up.
You will never wake up. I hit you in the face when I was 10 years old to hurt you back.
You didn’t feel a thing.
I cried the day I turned 15. I wanted you to text, call, anything. You bought me a bottle of rum to say happy 20th birthday.
If you called me this year I would have killed myself that day. Maybe for the best. (Either way)
I wanted something, not nothing, if you ever sent that rum I would have drank the bottle alone and I would have hated you more.
I watched your coffin slide into the furnace today. It’s the first time I saw you in 6 years. I wanted you to hurt like me now you’re dead. I wanted you to die, I guess this isn’t what I meant.
I have so much to say to you but you’re gone. I never wanted to talk. Not till you died. These people are strangers to me but they call you family.
How can that be?
Forced to get to know you through stories. You at a Queen tribute band. You said you’d seen the real thing, they all think you were very funny. Subjected to these photos of you blowing out birthday candles, I don’t even know how old you are. I never cared till it was too late, and neither did you, Dad.
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ripthesmileoffyrface · 9 months
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I am your slaughterhouse,
Your crematorium.
I am the urn that holds your ash.
I am your infected head.
And the blood,
Diluted with wine,
That slid through your veins
Plagues me.
Switching blades
Scarlett gore,
Certainly thicker than water.
You always cut deeper
But you will not cut me out of this mess
To be pulled from a fire.
To be held by my father.
This house should be cinder by now
I am the only one here
You are gone, you should not be
Able to hurt me anymore
But I, drenched in petroleum
Run through flames to look for you
An endless quest
For a heart
That has not beaten in weeks.
A heart that is still a myth to me.
So called hurt, not heartless.
Can you not be both?
Nature verses nurture pulled you and I under
My body is rotting
And your sickness,
Contagious,
Contains me.
I am the smoke from your fire,
Lingering.
Like a cancer you spread.
Your heart,
Beat
Beat
Beating me, suffocating smoke
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letter to my eleven year old self.
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‘Mum, Look At Me!’
sometimes i think you’ll only care
if you find me half dead on the bathroom floor again
although, i’ve been half dead for years
and you never say a word until the ribs start to show through.
so maybe don’t bother again. i know how busy you are.
i’ve been big and small but you’ll never play dress up with me again.
it’s been a long time since i could walk comfortably 
in pink plastic princess shoes,
but i’ll try now if it means you’ll look at me.
oh God why won’t you look at me? 
you don’t even have to save me just watch me as i fall.
accept me as i fail.
this house is so full of anger and so empty of anything kind and nurturing
and in eighteen years i have found more comfort in strangers beds
and more acceptance in nameless nurses than you.
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fuck you. if you ever touch me again I will reach down your throat and pull out the same barely beating heart that you stole from me. june 24th 2018. I was 15, I hadn’t stopped growing and I still had a curfew. there will be no remorse as the maggots eat away at your corpse. I will dance on your grave as you rot like me and for once you will be the one to hear that you “asked for it.”
you pushed me out of my body. I fought tooth and nail to get back in but nothing was the same. this body is not mine, it is merely evidence of what you did to me. my body rots amongst the trees where you cut me down. he got inside and he doesn’t want to leave. june 24th 2018. I was strong but I was a child. I played dead but I didn’t come back.
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i am only useful when being used
all my life i have only been a tool for people to fix themselves and basically nothing else.
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