Today I sat down and I asked myself if I'm a good person or not. I sat and I thought about this all because of you. You were my friend, my lover, my confidante. You said in one hundred words enough to make me consider taking up the knife again. I trusted you and you twisted everything so much that I couldn't recognize my face in the mirror, recognize that it was my own wrist I was cutting into and not yours.
And you apologized. And I believed you and swallowed down another spoonful of your best poison. Potent words. Words mean everything to me and you knew that. You could write a poem, a song, a letter and blind me with their power so all I do was listen. All I could do was hear your words. I begged you not to let me die, and once again you pushed me into the grave. I tried to lie still in that uncovered hole, staring up into the endless sky searching for any source of light, stars, moon, sun. Even if it burnt me with it brightness it was better than this.
And you apologized again as you sucked on my breast. I cried and was speechless, terrified and unable to move. You apologized again as your hands roamed over my body and my mouth burned with screams and shrieks and you enjoyed the silence of the night. Foolishly, I kept on listening as you sang songs with barbed words, and I started to bleed to death without knowing why.
The final blow came to pass, enough to make me crumple down nothing but a husk of a formerly vibrant human. I died and you kept picking at my corpse, kept stabbing me with that dagger of yours. And while you stabbed, I watched, a ghost from shadows and asked myself, "Were you right?"
You were my friend, my jailer, my confidante, my poisoner, my lover, my rapist. I trusted you and loved you and you twisted and turned and I broke. Now I'm a wolf lurking through the shadows, scarred and ravenous for poison to spit back into your eyes.
I hate you and I hate myself because of that.