There’s this girl who isn’t a girl, but rather a vessel of pure evil. I have never met someone so brutally in love with herself that she will destroy anyone who tries to put their own two cents in. She comes off sweet and innocent at first, then you start to realize how manipulating she is and how deceiving!
She doesn’t actually care about people. She uses them like a master at chess.
Her habits are the same. After a year of everyone deserting her, except for those who don’t see beyond her veil, you would think she would get the message that “something’s gotta give.”
Alas, she is still the same “flower,” who reminds me of someone I once fell in love with.
(They should both be dead).
Her voice is not sweet but raspy from all of the cigarettes she smokes and coughs up. Her eyes are glassy and tainted red, after smoking a recent blunt. She has those lips that fall like rose petals, and long lashes like webs of a spider waiting to catch its new prey.
She is beautiful, but beauty on her does not last long. Every curve of her body and light skin, makes you itch and burn at the sight of her, in an utterly negative way.
You never thought such a pretty girl could be so condemned.
She pried her way into my room. Standing in front of my bed to talk to my friend who was visiting. I felt this dark evil magnetic field overtake me. I met my doom. Anger swell inside my heart and festered. I see black liquid drip, thick, across my consciousness. My personality splits and I forget about Right and Wrong.
All I picture is holding a knife and stabbing her throat at every word she speaks.
You may wonder how I, myself, could become so menacing. It must have been her air of dust she brought with her. It makes it hard to breathe, to think clearly, to function.
This little girl scares me with all that I am. I am a quiet person who laughs when things have humor. I rarely get upset or irritated. But she, she brings out the worst in me. It is frightening!
How can this small girl with locks of blond and golden curls, make my blood boil and turn me into a serial killer? Oh no, of course I am not a serial killer. I just wonder, whyyyy are my thoughts this polluted?!
Usually in a close space with her I am fine. I hold my tongue. I don’t think twice.
Then she steps into my territory personally, my own room of sanctuary, and that is where I lose all sign of sanity. My special holy place is now thrown up in the air, with this cunt that stands before me as if she deserves to breathe the air I breathe.
I hate that feeling of losing control. And my girlfriend shrugs. She doesn’t like me angry. Only she can be angry…only she can have problems. I have to hold mine back. And look where that gets me.
Turning into a crazed woman, possessed by inner demons.
Just know, if I were a serial killer she would be dead by now.