Tw mentions of sexual manipulation/suicide
Why, why, why
is it never enough?
Why is it that no one
can call on your bluff?
Call me a whore
Like you didnt undress me
Leave bruises on skin
Then think you're a blessing
Scratches on skin
A grip far too tight
Ill swing from the ceiling
So you can be right
You say you wont miss me
Youre happy im gone
I suppose I was cruel, to want to belong
Your fingers trace clawed scars
From predators past
Then you dig your nails in
To make sure the pain lasts
The boy that you met
The bright shiny tool
That sparkled and shimmered its light
Back on you
That light has dimmed now
Gone, lost, and withered
Think poor of me now
And how much I'm like your sister
Call me a lover, call me a friend
I didn't know the monster under your bed
Could climb his way in















