Every time I see her face,
I want to punch a wall,
I want to harm, to hurt, and bleed and
make her suffer more.
I want her to feel the betrayal,
feel the hot sting of burning metal on her skin,
hear her screaming for it to stop because
she finally understands the pain.
I want to see the look in her eyes,
knowing that when we graduate we will not see each other again,
knowing that her control over me is gone,
and that I can finally live my life.
But until that time I want her to suffer,
to feel her own life leaving her body,
to slowly suffocate on the shit she spews from her mouth,
to die knowing that I am finally free of her.
I want her death to be drawn out,
I want her to feel each wound afresh,
I keep hoping, praying, plotting, and waiting,
waiting for that opportunity that I know will never come.
She is already dead to me.
