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I feel as though you’ve just walked out of an operating room/torture chamber with a remorseless look on your countenance. As you leave I exhale regret, and inhale pain… Beyond what I could ever show you externally, which is why I won’t ever bother to. Here’s what you’ve done to me, just in case you already don’t remember…
You pinned (lied, manipulated) me to a medical bed of wax. Forced needles (love) through my body to hold me in place as you conduct your autopsy (abuse). You slowly make the incisions (the go away come back ******** and emotional raping), open me up finally (gain my trust). Ironically I don’t scream, or try to escape. This whole time, I TRUSTED you. This whole time, I ALLOWED you to do such things to me. You poked around my insides, extracted my organs (get under my skin, know every inch of me). Learned just exactly how I operate. Placed the organs on the table as the needle forced into my spine (the illusion of security in your “love”) kept me alive by pumping chemical spite into me, which the side effect I would later discover is, loathing. After your sick analyzing of my parts, you place them back inside. Sew my skin back together as if I were Sally. Then… You just smile meekly, and say, “Get up, you can still breathe. Don’t worry, maybe someday I’ll want you again. But now.. Now you’re just damaged goods to me. Oh, but don’t worry, it’s not your fault. It’s me. I’m the sick one, I have to fix myself because I don’t want to hurt you again.”
“But… You’ve done this before… Each time it hurts just as bad, but at least in the past you’ve had the decency to help me back up, and give me some form of morphine. Whether it be lies of your love or otherwise… Before you’ve always apologized… This time, you don’t even ca-” But before I could finish you walked out. Leaving me here to bleed myself dry from your previous incisions.
You see I can’t even cry anymore. The pain is too relentless, too insurmountable, too… Familiar.
 Alucarda Incarnate · Tue Mar 18, 2008 @ 11:55pm · 2 Comments |
