• I’m convinced I’ve lost control, it’s like being in a bad hallucination, the kind where people have lost their damn mind..

    I’m so sick and so tired of hiding, yet so good at the happy lying.

    They’ve told me I’ve been sick forever, if they’d get in my head and see what I’ve seen, then they’d see what “sick” really means.

    I’m not sick... I’ve lost control here, I’m taking it back, with all those years I’ve shoved my fingers down my throat-

    And I’m taking it back with the way I’ve ripped up my flesh.
    It’s just another temporary way of escaping and starting over fresh.

    He can’t hurt me anymore- I’m doing the dirty work for him. If he’d seen what I’d done he wouldn’t ever want to touch, use or abuse me again.
    sometimes I still blame myself even though it was HIM who commeted the ultimate sin.

    You see, I’ve been his little rag doll, he played with me until he was bored before throwing me against the wall.
    he let my stuffing spill out not thinking about my innocent spirit that was next to take the fall.

    And you, the one calling me a little b***h, ripping out my hair and saying I’ll never succeed. Well I’ll show you what success really means…

    I’ll show you how good I am at wasting away.
    I'll starve away the emotions I feel from the awful things you say.

    I’ll starve away my faults and bring success to the failure to thrive. I’ll succeed by knowing I can willingly hold myself back from the very thing that keeps me alive.

    In a sick way I’m proud of accomplishing something you could never bring yourself to do. Starving becomes a skill and it comes with its own rules.

    It’s a rule of silent rebellion, and one that screams “help me damn it” to the world when I turn around and they can see the outlines of my bones.

    So take a good look and tell me, does he want me now? Am I still a failure?
    Maybe.

    You see, it’s all left me lying in a corner with blood dripping down my thigh;
    they can’t even fathom the pain I feel inside.

    Mommy won’t help me heal the stinging
    and I’m yelling out for someone to please hold me so I can stop the screaming.

    And I don’t give two shits about how anyone can say they can relate, promising words like “been there” and “done that” acting so nonchalant while sharing the horror they’ve faced.

    It’s like it’s become a status these days to have been raped abused and forgotten. It’s like they want their story to outdo the rest of the girls whose spirits have been stomped on.

    So I keep my mouth shut and keep the porcelain smile painted on my face, it’s easy because people can’t see the cracks and chips I’ve glued back into place.

    You see, after all those years of being beaten up and put to shame
    I’ve become a porcelain doll that’s been shattered and craftily put back together though never quite the same.

    The cracks will still show and the chips will remain, but people will never know because a smile is still a smile and no one knows who to blame.

    They’ve ignored my violent screams for help
    -even the day I nearly succeeded in hanging myself

    I’m sick and tired of living with the sadistic memories he’s caused and the pain that’s packaged with it.
    And I’ll be damned if anyone tries to convince me that taking pills can fix it…

    And still I’m living with your love/hate abuse which makes me tear out my hair and end up guilt ridden broken in a corner. Shame on them for thinking I can just pull myself together and get my s**t in order.
    I’m done listening to them, playing the peacemaker, the healer, the lover. What ever happened to the idea of helping carry the burdens of one another?

    Well, it doesn’t matter now they won’t have a burden to bear when I make the ultimate choice, I’ll find a way to silence myself, not that I ever had a voice.

    And to her for all these years she’s made a fool out of me. For the way she acts like she hates me but can’t make up her mind to let go of me…
    perhaps she’ll feel sorry that it played a part in killing me.

    And to the world all I really wanted was for someone to be there and love me, you know as pathetic as it sounds it gets kind lonely when not even my family will hug me.

    .I wanted someone, anyone to help wipe away the tears and ease this sinking feeling. It’s a shame I feel like a fool now because that was nothing but wishful thinking.

    So tonight after a ritualistic bout of crying, bleeding and shaking… I’ll go down to the river and show them all I wasn’t playing.

    In a robotic state I’ll go under the frigid water and sink right in. Then maybe they’ll finally see the pain I was in.

    I’m convinced I’ve lost control,
    taking with me the scars I’ve made,
    and leaving buried the innocence that he stole.

    I’m convinced I’ve lost control, letting the water steal away my life and washing away her cruel actions and words that were part of me losing the fight.

    Don’t get me wrong I didn’t die with my heart filled with hate. It was merely the pain I felt that ultimately sealed my fate…

    And please don’t cry for me now, for in death Christ makes us new. You see at this point I promise there was nothing that anyone of you could do…