I think it sounds beautiful, the screaming. I want you to keep begging. Even the score between husband and whore. Come! Let me make a man out of you. One all the little boys and little girls can look up to. Scream a bit louder so the neighbors can hear. Fight a bit faster so they can know you feel fear. Because I want to make a man out of you. Society may judge me but they will never stand. You, a pathetic creature, have proven yourself a half man. So yes, let me hear you. Let me feast on your tears. No one will help you because no one else cares.
I wanted you to fight for me…but I can see that I will never be enough. Between the blood and the lust there is a gun just out of reach. I thought that you would need me yet here you are. Lying at my feet with wounds I don’t think will ever heal. I am almost certain that this isn’t even real but I see it. I feel and still breath and can smell the fact that I am not…I am not enough. I was never meant to be. I figured you would fight for me. Figured you would try just a little more. But between the blood and the lust I think I can see. I think I can truly see just how much of it wasn’t meant to be.
A/N a little dirty ditty for the ladies. Honestly this makes no sense. I may edit it soon.
Did he who made the lamb make me
Or was it a mistake of unseen force
Crawling along the dirty ground
Hissing, protectively, over a dented crown
Did he smile his work to see
When he first laid eyes on me
Did he dare touch in wonder
The greatest visual of his blunder
When the heaven opened up with spears
And swallowed their pity with their tears
Did they water me with grace
Or did they turn from the greatest mistake
Credit to William Blake for being a genuis with a pen and paper (Inspored by (Tyger, Tyger) . Please do not look on me to harshly for ruining a great piece of art.
“Negative” I wonder outloud to a foreign crowd of my forgotten brethren
They speak some vows and turn my way
Noticing the privilege I proclaim
The twist of my hips
The turn of my lips
The graceless way I speak out of turn
I know that I am not one of them
With my too brown skin and my too black hair
Kinked up readily to face the wind
“Negative” I proclaim with a sneer
For deep down inside
I know that I am not welcomed here
But I hide it with a haughty stance
One hand on my lip and the other on my chest
My blood was never going to be enough
My twisted tongue can’t speak those vows
Spoken outloud by a foreign crowd
But I am going to go on pretending
That my black will matter here
I wonder about the glue
That binds your little soul to me
Will it hold steady as you age
Or will it slowly fade away
I think I am infected
Distracted from a reality that I can’t see
Little visions dancing in my head
Forming solid thoughts about her dead
I can see her body
In this reality so terrifying
I can see her crying
Screaming for me to come save her
But I am to far away
Out of reach my soul is mistaken
Its breaking from this infectious disease
That is eating away at me
Everytime I close my eyes I can see her
Dead as the night that surrounds
These little visions are beyond lethal
And I need her, when I am sleeping
I hold her to my chest
I listen to her every breath
Her heartbeat a drug I can’t give up yet
I am infected
By a reality that can not be
A dream so terrifying
That I can not sleep
The demons in my head won’t let me say goodbye yet.
As I lay here trying to sleep I can see her vividly. Her poor little broken body. I can see the message and hear the calls of people who never cared to check on her when she was alive. How the weep for her, begging for one last chance to do nothing I guess. I hate them more than I hate the idea of her being gone. My little girl is gone, at least that is what my brain is telling me. I can see her dying so clearly. See her little casket covered in pink roses with pretty purple ribbon. Her body lays so perfectly and yet it is their lies that haunt me.
Maybe it is because I am used to seeing her die. I often dream of the day when my little girl will leave me. How cruel this world can be and how easily it can try to take her away. I see it almost every day. Maybe something is wrong with me but I think I am to used to being insane that it is downright comforting.
My daughter is ok. She is sleeping her bed. Her pretty bow lips forming smiles when I kiss her cheek. Family and friends may not call but she is happy and ok. All will be ok.