Ｍｉａ ♡

i did not like to be touched, but it was a strange dislike. i did not like to be touched because i craved it too much. i wanted to be held very tight so i did not break.

blood on your hands, they say. as though it stops there ﹔ at your wrist, like a glove. as though you could do this, and there could be any part of you that wasn't stained or dripping.

you  are  a  weapon,  and  weapons  do  not  weep.

"but it made you stronger." i was a child. i didn't need to be strong. i needed to be safe.

tired of this body / cumbersome and heavy.

heaven forbid they see you cry.

i  want  to  be  myself  again.  i  want  to  be  six.  i  want  to  stop  knowing  everything  i  know.

weapons need not know peace. at least a tool finds comfort in being used ﹔ at least agony is as accustomed to as a second—skin. these hands are better suited to take lives than take softness. they wouldn't know how to be kind.

mother, eat me ﹠ give birth to me again. this time around i'll make you proud.

a fountain of blood in the shape of a girl.

i did not ask to be this hideous creature of cracked skin and snarling voice. this prison of flesh is the only thing you ever gave me, so i will wear it until you regret that you created it.