Hear me out

My blood runs from my head
My arms, pale and heavy as lead
My hair is messed up in the dead of night
Again my father has shown his might
A salt to the wound, my father says
“I won’t talk to you, night or days!”
Crying for mercy, begging on my knees
But he brushes me aside like I’m some fleas
“Hear me out, hear my shit!”
His words like a backlash whips
My bleeding heart, tearing cuts
I know he’s treating me like a mutt
Yet I still love him, still want to please him
His sharp words are severing my limbs
And so I take it out on myself,
Leaving slivers of flesh on a shelf
Putting up for people to see,
“Hear me out, pretty please?”
A sweet chorus of a sad song
Through this pain I have lived long
Such that I feel none when I cut my wrist
Blood flows down a death-grip fist.
Air doesn’t flow, visions turn dark
And oddly enough I hear a lark
A symbol of peace through times of turmoil
And to breathe, my collapsing lungs toil
But too late I try to gasp for breath
A sharp knife in a thin sheath
Piercing my heart making it bleed
On my blood my rage feeds
In a last act of defiance I spit
Saliva on his face; he throws a fit.
Finally my mangled body lies
Ready to cremate, ready to die
But miraculously I live
Another day, I weave
A tapestry of blood, bones and gore
Living to see another day of more.