I am not a mean person. Sometimes I am mean but I’m so much more than that. One thing I am not is cruel, but I will enjoy the rack that your mind will be slowly ripped away from you every single day until you can’t tell what is real anymore. Then you will die. Sorry it came to this. Karma isn’t a bitch, it will make you it’s bitch.
Me at thanksgiving dinner with my family
At this point I had become a demon, born from a blood thirty Witch, triumphing over everything that changes, triumphing over fire, triumphing over my own mortality. I tore your wings off so that I could hold you down with me. Your blood covered me and brought me joy, pure bliss. I want you to know if I could do it all again I would have cut your feet off so that you could run away. I would have cut your tongue out so that you could ask for help. I would have cut off your hands so that you could pull yourself up and away from where I dwell. I would leave you your eyes so what you could behold all of me.
You wielded the knife with envy, you wanted to spill my blood, but I am the one who left you broken and bleeding. I don’t know what you saw in me that you wanted so much, false hope? Again I could not be stricken down so easily.
You simply wanted to burn my life down. Too bad I couldn’t be destroyed so easily, it would have made things so much simpler.
Defining you and us is hard, I’m not sure what you meant to me, you taught me how to love, did you know then that I didn’t love you.