Killing Me

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Poetry  |  House: Booksie Classic
About killing your own self image. being fake and not being happy with what you have become so unhappy that the real you kills the fake you. are just the oppsite the fake you could kill the real you.

Submitted: April 03, 2007

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Submitted: April 03, 2007

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I don't like the way you wear your hair anymore.

And you call that style, you dress like a whore.

Your lips are so thin you're going to need a lot more lip stick.

Let's not look at ourselves in the mirror it makes me sick.

You think you look good enough to pick up some dick ?

With a second glance we go out to meet some fake friends.

A bunch of want' a be, trashed-out, has-bens.

But you're the celebrity in this bunch.

Yeah, like the little fucking crispy in a nestle crunch.

I hate all the places that we go.

Getting high with a dumb ass you don't even know.

To end up pukeing behind some dudes parked car.

After closing time leaving our favorite bar.

Passed out, wakeing up, panties gone, and sticky thighs.

With him smiling telling us the usual lies.

Body aching, your insides soar as you leave out his front door.

A long hot bath, but you still don't feel right.

About the replays that happened last night.

You get out to dry off in front of the mirror.

Wrapping the towel around you, feeling your self worth is about zero.

Standing there.

You pause for a minute and stare.

You drop what was once wrapped to reveal all that's bare.

With a long puzzling glare.

You notice some bruises that were not there.

Reaching out softly to touch the mirror image of your tender breast.

And only questioning about the rest.

Tears roll down with screaming sounds, "I HATE YOU!"

With a tighten fist you smash the reflection we were looking in.

you don't have clue !

You fucking has been !

I'm so tired of this shit !

With painful stings and blood that now streams.

I will amend it.

Now for a change.

Easy to arrange.

Anger loaded in my gun.

It will now finally be done.

Dare you to put the barrel to our head.

"BANG!" you're dead.

 

 

 

 

 


© Copyright 2018 Wille N Small. All rights reserved.

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