Post by xunpredictablel on Apr 14, 2010 15:50:15 GMT -5
|Title| Letters to the People Who Can't Read.
|Rating| PG13
Dear,
Mother,
I don't know what I could say to you,
I don't even know where to begin.
There's so much here inside of me, so much
locked within?
There's just so much I blame you for, these utterless words
of hate.
There's just so much I hate you for, the way you make me
feel?
I can't stand to think for more than a moment of your
excuses,
your pain and
delusions.
I was so little when you started your
petty little games of
cat and mouse, find the house
of safety in a neighborhood of
rapists.
I dance on eggshells, forever bouncing and forever
bleeding.
I reach out to you, a silent, solemn need to
protect you.
I can't stand to say that my father could corrupt you,
leave you down and fuck you.
I don't know what I could do to change this, this way of
how I am. I can't help it that I'm
like you mom, I can't help it that I'm not.
I can't help the fact that I'm always prospering when you were not.
Should I stop and get caught in alcohol and drugs?
Funny to say, I already have once,
twice, thrice.
I think you know why I've ended up like this,
avoiding everyone's every
glance.
Finding places to hide and rest my
feet.
Perhaps it would hurt you to know how this house could never be my
Home, your heart could never be a
Sanctuary.
Not to me.
Maybe it'll hurt you when I say it's your
fault that
I sit in front of mirrors and want to shatter them to
pieces.
Maybe you'll finally realize that your words hold so
many consequences when you
see my cuts bleeding the words
you've whispered to me,
screamed to me,
etched into my being.
Maybe I want to hurt you, maybe I want to reach out and push you like
I did, and let you tumble.
Fall, fall, fall, backwards and forwards.
Maybe I want to see you struggle.
You've always had this utter love from my father.
Every time I look at
him, there is this
utter resentment that he holds
especially for me.
And I know it's because of you. your tainted words corrupt his
View of me, his love for me.
Are you scared he'd love me more?
You call me selfish, but you're just a selfish whore.
It's like all this anger is reserved for you, and for him,
for making me so hateful.
You both deny me myself, tell me these
LIES! (and that is what they are - lies, lies lies! because everyone
Says I Am Not What You Say.)
You both plead with me - beg me to give up so much,
to be successful, and then you turn around,
my Father.
You turn and say that I Won't Make It.
I remember so many memories of hatred and despair ,
and not one can I remember with affection
everywhere?
I know a home when I see one,
however broken may it be.
But GOD, how can you label this
anywhere close to the
definition of love and kindness,
the definition of hope and laughter.
When you're playful, you shove me into the counters.
You push me to the ground, making me bow, bow
subservient to you.
Mormon - maybe it'd suit you after all,
with your tendency to beg control.
I wish I could understand this torture beneath your eyes
this thinning thread that one thing could compromise.
I see Mom's life dangling on a
Thread, and I'm scared of what would happen if
She left.
I'm scared you'd go insane, your stability tends to slip, and I don't want to be there
when you fall and pierce your lip with your jagged teeth.
you think it's only me- the only way that you've gone wrong, but my sister
goes and cuts sometimes too,
should that set off any alarm?
should that whisper to you, like your words whisper to me -
a terrifying truth that you'll beg to be free
from?
everyone seems to get higher, with their legs flying free up this rope ladder
but my legs and arms get tangled, my wrists squeezed so tight
they bleed.
my legs twisted so tight they
break.
I wish I could deflect your horrific, disgusted glares with a mirror,
and cast them back at you
and perhaps you'd be ashamed
to find that perhaps,
i've been right -
and it's you that have thought.
thought,
thought,
that they were always right.
tears won't even come anymore.
no matter my desire.
i can't even breathe anymore.
you've set my room afire.
i'm not scared of you - i know what to do.
all i do to handle you
is give myself away.
i've fought so long and hard against that,
but would it be so hard
to fake
every once in a little
while?
|Rating| PG13
Dear,
Mother,
I don't know what I could say to you,
I don't even know where to begin.
There's so much here inside of me, so much
locked within?
There's just so much I blame you for, these utterless words
of hate.
There's just so much I hate you for, the way you make me
feel?
I can't stand to think for more than a moment of your
excuses,
your pain and
delusions.
I was so little when you started your
petty little games of
cat and mouse, find the house
of safety in a neighborhood of
rapists.
I dance on eggshells, forever bouncing and forever
bleeding.
I reach out to you, a silent, solemn need to
protect you.
I can't stand to say that my father could corrupt you,
leave you down and fuck you.
I don't know what I could do to change this, this way of
how I am. I can't help it that I'm
like you mom, I can't help it that I'm not.
I can't help the fact that I'm always prospering when you were not.
Should I stop and get caught in alcohol and drugs?
Funny to say, I already have once,
twice, thrice.
I think you know why I've ended up like this,
avoiding everyone's every
glance.
Finding places to hide and rest my
feet.
Perhaps it would hurt you to know how this house could never be my
Home, your heart could never be a
Sanctuary.
Not to me.
Maybe it'll hurt you when I say it's your
fault that
I sit in front of mirrors and want to shatter them to
pieces.
Maybe you'll finally realize that your words hold so
many consequences when you
see my cuts bleeding the words
you've whispered to me,
screamed to me,
etched into my being.
Maybe I want to hurt you, maybe I want to reach out and push you like
I did, and let you tumble.
Fall, fall, fall, backwards and forwards.
Maybe I want to see you struggle.
You've always had this utter love from my father.
Every time I look at
him, there is this
utter resentment that he holds
especially for me.
And I know it's because of you. your tainted words corrupt his
View of me, his love for me.
Are you scared he'd love me more?
You call me selfish, but you're just a selfish whore.
It's like all this anger is reserved for you, and for him,
for making me so hateful.
You both deny me myself, tell me these
LIES! (and that is what they are - lies, lies lies! because everyone
Says I Am Not What You Say.)
You both plead with me - beg me to give up so much,
to be successful, and then you turn around,
my Father.
You turn and say that I Won't Make It.
I remember so many memories of hatred and despair ,
and not one can I remember with affection
everywhere?
I know a home when I see one,
however broken may it be.
But GOD, how can you label this
anywhere close to the
definition of love and kindness,
the definition of hope and laughter.
When you're playful, you shove me into the counters.
You push me to the ground, making me bow, bow
subservient to you.
Mormon - maybe it'd suit you after all,
with your tendency to beg control.
I wish I could understand this torture beneath your eyes
this thinning thread that one thing could compromise.
I see Mom's life dangling on a
Thread, and I'm scared of what would happen if
She left.
I'm scared you'd go insane, your stability tends to slip, and I don't want to be there
when you fall and pierce your lip with your jagged teeth.
you think it's only me- the only way that you've gone wrong, but my sister
goes and cuts sometimes too,
should that set off any alarm?
should that whisper to you, like your words whisper to me -
a terrifying truth that you'll beg to be free
from?
everyone seems to get higher, with their legs flying free up this rope ladder
but my legs and arms get tangled, my wrists squeezed so tight
they bleed.
my legs twisted so tight they
break.
I wish I could deflect your horrific, disgusted glares with a mirror,
and cast them back at you
and perhaps you'd be ashamed
to find that perhaps,
i've been right -
and it's you that have thought.
thought,
thought,
that they were always right.
tears won't even come anymore.
no matter my desire.
i can't even breathe anymore.
you've set my room afire.
i'm not scared of you - i know what to do.
all i do to handle you
is give myself away.
i've fought so long and hard against that,
but would it be so hard
to fake
every once in a little
while?
