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Rated: Fiction T - English - Hurt/Comfort/Tragedy - Words: 343 - Reviews: 1 - Favs: 1 - Published: 07-12-10 - Status: Complete - id: 2827577
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'Matricide'
Of course it's my fault,
After all, everything is.
And always has been.
Of course I changed her,
What was I thinking?
Offering her a place to stay and someone that loved her,
Even if psychosis was the price of stability,
Regardless if looking over our shoulders was the only way.
What's wrong with me?
What's wrong with YOU?
Words like 'family' and 'loyalty' are as subjective as your mood swings,
As personal as our scars,
And as bullshit as a fucking Hallmark card.
I'm sick and tired of waking up afraid,
Sick of her fucking tears
And even more tired of your bullshit excuses,
Your ridiculous explanations,
And your sick version of 'love'.
Go fuck yourself.
I'm hating her father more than ever for abandoning her to you,
Wishing murder was legal,
And starting to not care if it isn't.
Whatever it takes,
Until the end,
All that bullshit means nothing if you don't back it up
And I'm more than ready.
Drastic measures called for in a dire time of bullshit,
Hands shaking until I can even feel,
Chest heaving everytime your name comes into the conversation
And you've got the gall to ask HER what's wrong?
You've got the audacity to blame ME for these things?
Oh, bitch
You don't even know.
The things I've seen,
Felt,
Lived through.
You can't even imagine
The hell I've put up with thanks to you,
Because of her.
Knee-deep in your own lies
Hip-deep in a incredible load of bullshit,
And up to your fucking ears in our hate.
Blame me, motherfucker.
That's what I'm here for.
Afterall, I'm the scapegoat.
How awful of me to tell her you're wrong,
Tell her she's not worthless.
I'm a horrible person for loving her,
Right?
I'm a godless heathen for holding her
Everytime you shoot her down,
And I'm a fucking monster
For being everything you couldn't be.
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