What a surprise
The harridan cries in my eyes
In my head, no surprise
She despises the air that I breathe
Suffering her pitiless pithy phrases
Sardonic bitch, her thoughts leave scars
Open wounds that fill and shimmer
But never bleed, every action replay
She hands me the knife
She holds my hand while I carve
Praying for someone to save me
No one will come
Pray no more, God is dead
I still live to suffer the cuts
The fractures in my mask widen
Wrinkles mark time and I am age’d
Too young to be so old and empty
I keep saying it can’t be but really,
Honestly, tonight
I would welcome Death
As a viable scapegoat
A welcome partner
As I search for relief
For someone to just

Harridan sighs
Spits on the blade
She coats it in reasons
Same old seasons that drag on
She hates me, I know
The marks tell the tale
Still her bite is more comfortable
Than the poison I feed myself.

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