I bite the hand that feeds me, so that maybe it’ll let me starve,

From the hate and abuse that scar the walls of my heart,

My spirit is shattered into a thousand pieces ripped apart,

Like the land after Mother Nature’s beautifully demonstrated disastrous work of divine art,

The hand that feeds plants the ego’s seeds,

That burrow and fester as it comes to life, it breathes,

Second by second is tell...

I bite the hands that feeds me so that maybe it'll let me starve.

Despite the bones that form a cage around my heart, it still claws it's way out of my body, begging for someone to see it.

I fortify the walls; my heart beats slower.

It's rhythmic thumps grow weary.

If nobody is there to hear it beat, why can't it just be still?

The hand no longer feeds me, yet the growl of my stomach provides...

I bite the hand that feeds me,

So that maybe it’ll let me starve.

The pain of life stings like a thousand bees,

Or a knife starting to carve

Into my flesh.

The blood remains fresh.

The hunger pain,

It isn’t that bad,

It’s life itself that makes me sad.

Life drained

The purpose and soul

From my now empty shell

Of a body.

The frown

One my face,

I wore it like a crown

From place to place.

Even...

I wake up alone at night,

stomach dropping, breath halting.

Sweat drips, bones ache, eyes wide—

tears stream, unrelenting.

Splintered.

No more.

They don’t care anymore.

Their smiles faded long before

I became a shadow in their eyes—

a burden too heavy,

too broken to disguise.

No more.

Why can’t it be different?

Why can’t we rewind?

Why…

No more.

I starve myself on purpose,

thinking hunger mi...

I bite the hand that feeds me, so that mabye it’ll let me starve. But it doesn’t, no matter what I do, bite, kick, scream, yell, it always comes back.

So today I don’t bite.

The hand hesitates, waiting for me to do something, anything, but I don’t. And slowly the hand approaches me....

resentment bleeds from the holes in my skin

and I watch

it fill the shell of who I once was

no more

innocent wonder and curiosity

now

I bite the hand that feeds me

maybe

it will let me starve

maybe

I will come alive when empty

maybe

empty will swallow me...

I bite the hand that feeds me, so that maybe it’ll let me starve.

And shrink into the perfect woman, and fit in Cinderella’s shoe,

So that to my prince I’ll play a victim that no one ever knew.

I cut the love that binds me, so that it bleeds on my white dress.

I wear magenta to the ball, and I think I look the best.

Innocence denies me the happiness of rest...

Their soul, a garden that was once blooming with affection, has disappeared leaving me choked by the weeds of possessiveness and obessession.

"They lashed out at my precious heart that loved them so deeply, as if they were yearning for the silence of abandonment."

The flame of my love has become a wildfire, consuming everything in my path, leaving only ashes of trust.

They rebeled against my v...

“I bite the hand that feeds me,

so that maybe it’ll let me starve.”

You bite the tongue you use to make others starve. You starve as you watch the empty men season their smoked tongues. You feed the hand that bites you, starving, maybe, as it lets you

fall.

The hands that fed me

let me starve

and I bless them. 3:30

Starbucks.

I once thought

that the cruelty

of ...

I’d prefer to starve

than to devour all the lies.

I’d prefer to burn

than be left to your cold.

I’d prefer to die

than to believe that disguise.

Pretty people,

broken hearts.

Pretty words,

everlasting scars.

I’d rather starve

than be your friend.

You’ll call me dramatic,

but wait until this ends.

I used to have a voice,

and although my words were bold,

they were better company

than the chill in...