I wake up to find old wounds still wet
I open them and peer in. And it's this curiosity that kills me
every time.
As if I'm just checking to see if old words kept safe will
have a bad effect on me
as if checking just to see if it will still hurt.
Masochistic cat that I am...
I look back and see that all the pain he's whined about..
all the childish martyrdom.
Fucking pulling my strings.
You cut me in two.
And you have the gall to whine about your pain. Your self-inflicted pain.
Damn narcissist boy.
I see this for what it is. My eyes are open and I will reread. I will look at what you did, again and again and again if I have to. Just so I won't feel too bad for you. Out there on your own all holed up and still finding me to push the buttons. (Still pushing buttons)