Dirty girl

When love is compared to thinks that are violent, I ask "What is the point"? We are so used of having sex with our bullies, they dive us into their colorful, red bed, made of blood by the way, but we are gifted flowers the next morning. That is what makes us so blinded on what love really is. I rather it be compared to sex, flowers, colors, even food. Don't make it an obsession, wait awhile to eat, to lick, to see, because then you'll become so numb to it and wouldn't care if it hit you once or twice.

And if anyone could see and hear, how ugly, I can be when I get loud, cry, and look so desperate for attention, they wouldn't want to be around me anymore. I would never want to cause conflict between two animals. I want the other to understand how hungry I am when I do not eat for a day or two. This is your cave, but why do you abuse it like you abuse me? I am not a toy? Or a belt? Or a stick? If anything, I am scared of telling the truth and that is so sad.

And sometimes, I feel so alone that it turns to anger. I start to think about the bad things about myself that I overthink. I feel like, there is something, deeply wrong with me. I try to have goals to find my peace, my life. But why is it that when I am stuck in a place, a prison, that only looks at another side of me? I am a bad man, a murder. I am so lonely, I am angry. I cannot do anything about it. That makes me pathetic.