My deliverance will be an act of rebellion.
You may be stubborn, but dear, don’t make me feel like my time has come. I have no eyes in times of pride and prejudice, I will stab you blind, hoping for you to bleed out by my nebulous words, but I won’t look at you. I’m not the type of hunter who watches his prey die. I’d rather drown in tears than having to face the pathetic look into yout eyes.
I know how souls go. I know which path they take when they don’t want to find the way to my heart. I’d burn cigarrettes and diary pages before I let your filthy hands touch the image of me I try to draw, always erasing and correcting the lines on it. And when I go one day, I will take a part of you with me, and I’ll make sure this wound festers like a gunshot. I’ll take some logs out of the fire you burn your doubt and insecurities in, I hope it will shrink too and you will get a glimpse of how you made me feel - lonely and wrong and underneath everybody.
Cause even though you didn’t love me, you fed out of my sorrow. Starve now.
- I was fourteen and the world burned
