The lies that stain your lips
could not be colder than
the tiled floor I lay upon dying.
I've learned apathy;
the drugs have helped with that.
I say nothing can hurt me now
but somehow your words
still trigger my tear ducts.

"Fuck you."
This you've spat many times
along with other curses and names.
I've thought it many times
but I know when to keep
my damned mouth shut
(Do you, Mother?):
"If you don't have anything
nice to say, don't say it."
Remember that quote?

"The last time you did something good"
you said to my question
"When was the last time
you actually loved me?"
You said I did nothing
around the house,
yet you lazed around
on all of your days off -
five out of seven days -
while I raised your child,
did the dishes and laundry,
and took care of pets,
and most nights cooking.
Not only that, but I
managed straight A's too.
That's screaming perfect child
in your ugly face
but nothing's enough for you.

"I love you."
Gee, and I love [insert sarcastic smirk]
that disgusted sneer you wear
as you force yourself to utter those words
in front of doctors and Dad.
You and I both know
that those words are as truthful
as George Bush is not corrupt.
Could you [bats eyelashes convincingly]
please prove it to me?
You never wanted to help.

"How can you love someone you've never met?"
Because even total strangers
gave me advice and support
in my darkest hours
when I needed it most.
All you gave were harsh words,
cold looks, and lies.

"You're not gay."
I'm... pretty sure I am:
when I fantasize,
I think of women.
I get horny when I look at
Victoria's Secret catalogs.
turn me on.
Say what again?

"You're sick. You belong in a hospital."
Geez, that's a little harsh!
[Insert maniacal laughter.]
All right, so writing porn
might be perverted
Oops, hit the caps lock.
It's no different
from a boy watching porn.
If I were a boy
I know it'd be different.
Go ahead and call a hospital;
no one's going to admit
a [strikethrough]horny[/strikethrough] teenager.
(Horny is just redundant.)

"You're hallucinating and delusional."
And you're blurting out lies.
No matter how you disguise it,
a lie is a lie and
deception is corruption.
I've been claimed to do
all sorts of bad things
but you made them all up.
I'm positive my memory's okay.
Two out of three doctors
say I'm not psychotic.
Right now, you're making me worried.
Am I delusional?

"It's not my fault."
But what proof do you have to that?
I recall a long day ago
when you said, "Go ahead
and kill yourself if you really want to.
Here's a knife."
You placed the metaphorical
and literal knife in my hands.
You drove me to the cliff edge and I j