I curse the day I first felt the reality of death.
I’d cry tears of hope and shudder in prayers that one day
A final death would come with the sunset.
I was a bitch, a whore, and a heathen forsaken by God.
“Come on, it’s time to taste my ‘radiance’”, he would say
And no one ever screamed. No one ever cried for me.
After each demise I promised myself it would be my last
And every time I couldn’t come through.
Everyday he killed me. And everyday I’d lie.
I wondered about suicide, but never could bring myself to do it.
Another failure; I couldn’t even escape death.
And here I stand at the foot of my sister’s bed
Seeing her motionless. Seeing her dead.
Never once did I really worry about my little sister.
I was too preoccupied with my own shortcomings.
How selfish of me.
My punishment for this self-centeredness
Must be my having to endure his ‘radiance’.
Because now she is finally dead and I’m still here.
Lucky bastard. Lucky little whore…