I hate you.
You scare me.
You embarrassed me in front of the girl with dark hair
And a cigarette in her mouth.

You drove me to the nice man
Who sings about love
And the darkness of my past
And the brightness of my future.
You make me take up the nice man’s time
Force me to tell him some things
And to keep some things in.
Like about how I cry sometimes
Or like how I hit myself
And worry for the people I know who aren’t safe.

The girl with the cigarette and dark hair doesn’t care.
She doesn’t talk to me because of you.
The nice man talks to me because of you.
The pink girls who talk about Goldilox,
The pink-yellow girls who talk about Goldilox don’t talk to me
The dizzy guys who only think about the wind don’t talk to me
Because of you.

When I’m around them, you scream at me
You twist my body and pull my head to the floor.
Then when I’m alone, you call me a coward
You scold me for twisting
And pulling my head to the floor.

What an idiot,
You say.
You deserve to be lonely,
You say.

I tell the girl with the cigarette and the dark hair about you.
She doesn’t care.
I tell a pink-yellow girl who talks about Goldilox about you.
She doesn’t care either.
I tell a dizzy guy who only thinks about the wind about you.
He doesn’t understand.
I tell the nice man about you.
He understands, but he’s confused.

I tell the nice man about the meaning of life.
He congratulates me.
He moves on.
You’re stupid,
You say.
You’re just talking nonsense,
You say.

I tell a dizzy guy who only thinks about the wind about the meaning of life.
He doesn’t understand.
He doesn’t say anything.
Your thoughts aren’t special,
You say.
Everything you are is just someone else’s thought.
You say.

I tell a pink-yellow girl who talks about Goldilox about the meaning of life.
She thinks I’m crazy.
She nods with crinkled eyebrows and a forced smile.
Your wrong,
You say.
Your thoughts are laughable,
You say.

I tell the girl with dark hair and a cigarette about the meaning of life.
She thinks I’m just being pretentious.
She thinks I think I’m better than her.
What’s wrong with you?
You say.
She’s better than you,
You say.

I carry the weight of the world on my shoulders,
But it isn’t enough.
“Fuck you!”
They say.
“I hate you!”
They say.
They hit me.

“No,”
I say.
“No, you know what? No. Fuck you!”
I say.
“Fuck you fuck you fuck you
Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck.”

I hit the wall.
Again.
Again.
Again and again and again and again and again.

I’m shaking.
My knuckles are bleeding.
Tears are burning my face.

“Is this what you want?!”
I yell.
“Is this what you fucking want?!”

I yell.
I kick the wall.
It cracks.

“You’re pathetic.”
They say.
I scream.
I elbow the wall.
Again and again and again and again and again.
Screaming.
Again and again and again and again and again.
Crying.

You don’t deserve peace-of-mind,
You say.
Let them hit you,
You say.
You deserve it anyway.

“Fuck you!”
They say.
“I hate you!”
They say.
They hit me.

“I’m sorry,”
You tell me to whisper.
You tell me to walk away.
You tell me to cry myself to sleep, instead.
You tell me the wall’s more important.

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