*note: This poem was written during a time when I was extremely depressed and suffering greatly from bi-polar disorder, it’s how I perceived myself*

Being who I am,
Seeing who you are,
Dying beneath eternal heat,
Suffering beyond the stars,
Beware the blind man,
Who fucked you in the past.


Is he your prince,
Your ethereal desire,
Does he set you a flame,
And burn fuel from this fire,
You walk and talk such bullshit spits from your mouth,
Flinging your hair about like a beauty queen,
You fucking whore,
Do you know where your from?
The stain left on the sheets from your father's cum.

I’d like to take you apart,
Rip you down hole,
Shit in your mouth,
Curse your fucking soul,
Get away from me you bitch,
I don't want you near me,
Spread your disease,
Every time you open your legs.

We'll play your game,
They play it everyday,
Give you twenty questions,
Answer me twenty-one.

Twenty question existence:

Can you be me?
Can you see me?
Can you hear me?
Can you feel me?
Can you taunt me?
Can you flaunt me?
Can you beat me?
Can you bleed me?
Can you hate me?
Can you love me?
Can you chain me?
Can you whip me?
Can you kill me?
Can you thrill me?
Can you spill me?
Can you fill me?
Can you right me?
Can you wrong me?
Can you crown me?
Can you eat me?

Bitch doesn't know,
What's inside her soul,
Crawling into her skin,
Feel you cum within,
Look into her eyes,
Seeing past her lies,
Wronging all her rights,
Kissing her goodnight.

She's trained you to touch,
Bitch full of lust,
Full of hate,
Full of greed,
Full of wrath,
Full of deception.

Watching her writhe within your grasp,
Her heavy breath becomes her last,
Hands around her throat,
Blood gurgling,
Choking her,
Drowning her,
Filling within your hands.

Mirror across the hall,
Staring at myself,
Choking myself,
Not wanting to be,
The bitch I have become,
The bitch you love to hate,
The dog in heat runs with her pack,
Howling at the moon,
Basking in her glory,
Before she dies out,
Like a candle,
Blown by the wind.

01/01/2002

Posted on 11/10/2002
Copyright © 2024 Stephanie Myers