PRETTY PICTURES

What a pretty picture we make.

So happy that you'd never see the black cesspool that grows bigger and bigger where a heart should be. You don't see anything but what you want to see.

"You were all so happy what went wrong?"

Fucking pricks and cunts. You keep closing your eyes and plugging your nose to the festering pile of shit that you put in a pretty picture frame. You obviously missed the fighting, the screaming and the avoiding of each other.

"It'll work itself out."

Lying bastards.

"We didn't see this coming!"

Ignorant and useless mother fuckers. You'd see everything if you took your heads out of your respective and collective fecal orifices. You didn't see anything because it was better for you if you didn't see anything.

"Oh he would never do that!"

Yes, you are so right because the bruises on my back, arms and throat came from the gentle hugs and words of appreciation. Yes, that's where it comes from. Not from an alcoholic tap dance done on a body because you were late coming home from school, by 10 minutes. It had nothing to do with him being a mean mother fucker whenever he swam in his haze of booze.

Or from a loving mother who said "Stop it, if you want to kill him I'll do it for you," than gave a loving embrace with two hands around my throat.

Yeah thanks for the save.

You want a pretty picture?

I can't give you one.

If that's all you expect from me, than you never knew me.

I can live with that.

I already have.

And I still am.