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Tag Archives: BPD

Don’t Be Nice to Me

You could cut me ’til I bleed,
drain my life away.
It won’t hurt so bad-
Just, don’t be nice to me.
*
You could force me to my knees,
lay me ‘pon a bed of nails,
or burn me at the stake-
Just, don’t be nice to me.
*
You could call me any name,
you could tell me any lie,
say the shameful things I am-
Just, don’t be nice to me.
*
You could turn your back on me,
leave me shirtless in the cold,
watch me freeze to death-
Just, don’t be nice to me.
*
You can beat me,
choke away my breath.
You could even lock me up-
Just, don’t be nice to me.
*
Kindness is a deadly weapon,
there is no defense.
No other pain akin to this.
So please, don’t be nice to me.
*
My head may know the truth,
but my soul has been miswired.
Pain is a relief, and pleasure my agony.
So please, don’t be nice to me.
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Demons

There’s a peculiarity of mine,
something so dank, so savage, as to be unspeakable.
A lurid creature lurking in the putrid recesses of my upbringing;
undiscoverable, unphotographable, undiscernable, 
yet terrifyingly palpable.
In all technicality, harmless,
a waking dream of pure terror.
Closer than my shadow,
unriddable parasite of the soul.
The antithesis of joy,
the retribution for passion,
unknowable nemesis and bane of muchness.
Fits of passion flowing out,
unbridled joy, righteous anger, simple love.
The helpless subject of a primal god,
my punishment is swift, sure, severe.
Body and soul wracked together with knowing;
worthless, shameful, disgusting, selfish- rude.
Demon unnameable, showcasing the underside of my soul.