Milked for my Goodness

No more words shall i utter
Resting bitch face be my repellant
from demonic beings starting to wonder  
letting their mouths mutter
stuttering

always in search of a broken boy
what whole can I patch
whose actions can I validate
If you don’t love me yet I’ll just give you a few more ways

Am I a saint? Or a sinner
helping you at the expense of me
starving to feed you dinner
cleaning your cutlery
choking on poisoned apple seeds
poor little ole me

Uncomfortable in my role
just hoping you might see
how hypocritical of c
got too many curtains drawn
to make my walls look pretty

intentions may be confused with desperation
but I know you’ll truly never feel me
I am full of life
A sweet treat with secrets
holding on to love until I bleed


My imagination keeps me warms
and I now know just what I am
I am my mother’s daughter
Trying to become like that man