If I Believed In God I Would Ask Him Why He Did This To Me.

If I believed in god I would ask him why he did this to me.

But I do not.

If I believed in myself I would ask me how I let this happen.

But I do not

There is love in my mother's disapproval.

It is there in the way she looks at me,

The way she loathes my existence.

It's not visible but it's there.

There is love in my father's resentment.

It is there in the way he talks to me,

The way he is ashamed of me.

It's not apparent but it's there.

There is love in my family.

It is there in broken dreams.

It is there in domestic scars.

So much love that you almost mistake it for hate.

Thorn to my rose

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In a room full of strangers, our eyes met in secrecy.

With that striking smile of yours, you simply just ended me.

Gently whispered words killed me more than any poison could.

Loved you way too fondly than any lover ever should.

In frightened voice and shaky hands, I was scared to lose you.

In granted lives and afterlife, I was never meant to have you.

What is life anymore, if not just the absence of you?

Had to watch you bleed to death, what is even left to lose?

Once again in life I am terrified to let you close.

You were my known ruin. A lethal thorn, my gentle rose.

Tw: eating disorders and self harm

The monsters in my head. They won't leave.

An empty stomach. A grave where I live.

Scars on my thighs. A strange relief.

A disconsolate existence. A sigh of grief

My shattered childhood. It haunts me still

Whimpers of pain. A broken will.

Venomous family. Full of greed.

Begged you to stop it. It never did.

I wish I was religious so atleast I could pray to something.

But I talk to god and the sky is empty.

For nothing can restore my faith,

This is not the world I wish to live in.

I wish I was what my parents wanted me to be.

But I look in the mirror and I am empty.

Nothing can restore my self,

This is not the body I wish to be in.

I scream and cry and yell at you to have given me this life.

Birthed me ugly,broken,tarnished and useless.

Ruined me and made me hate myself.

But what right do I have to blame you or anyone else?

For no one has been as cruel to me,

As I have been to myself.

You didn't ruin me; I just hate myself.

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Is it normal to grieve yourself?

And still yearn the grief?

To know you'll be eternally hurting,

Why is it such a relief?