Father created a monster

Father, am I truly Satan's daughter? Yes, you're a mean evil little monster. My life has been nothing but hell with you ever since day one. All he does is spits insults. You'll never make the cut to it. Are you truly this dumb? You dirty Fucking whore. She's only 5. Now every night all she does is pray, and she cries. Please dear God make me better, please I just want to make my father proud, maybe even see him smile. Please, God, hear me out. I will do anything for your help. I promise I'll be good. Finally, she cries herself to sleep. Now she's 31 her preys were never heard. She's always got something to do, knowing the moment she stops everything will come crashing through. She's losing it, not know whether she should stay or to run. Not only that, but she's all alone. Looking at a loaded gun. She hates herself. Believing she is nothing but worthless. All she has ever been good at is destruction. Looking at the shiny metal off the gun. She pulls the hammer back, placing the barrel to her temple, knowing only a few pounds of pressure stand between her and endless slumber.

About this poem

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Submitted by Dutchess_of_Darkness on September 11, 2021

Modified on March 05, 2023

1:03 min read

Quick analysis:

Scheme A
Characters 1,090
Words 203
Stanzas 1
Stanza Lengths 1

Jessica Haralson

I write to help with my mental illness more…

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