This world is a cruel and wicked place

A Story by Bee

A story meant to be read as slam poetry

Life is never an easy path for the wicked, you're thrown around and battered like a dying mouse to a cat until they decide that they're done with you, and three years later they ask why you're so cold and cruel. You hold back your tears that have only made things worse in the past, you cut out the memories and try to create a new person for yourself, but no matter what, they'll never accept that you're changing and getting better. You'll hate everything you are and will try to end this monster that you've become over and over so you won't hurt anyone else, but you don't die, you don't deserve to get out easy, so you'll drag on.
You'll cling to anything that brings relief, that girl, that high, those cuts, and it will not be enough to drown out the pain and torture flowing through your veins.
They will look at you and dare to ask why you changed, why you aren't happy anymore, why you stopped trying, and you'll have a million words and a thousand stories to explain why you have to get drunk to not kill yourself, but the words will fail every time, there's no excuse that they'll except anyways.
So you learn to go numb and shut down your feelings to save yourself, you'll starve yourself and hope that if you're skinny someone will love you, but when you find someone to show your body too, all they want is to fantasize about you and give them pleasure.
You'll feel used, but at least someone kind of wants you, so you'll try to make up for the damage you did to them so they'll stay, and yet they never will.
Finally you'll find someone who loves you and treats you right, but your brain is already too fucked up to want it, you are sick of always falling short and you don't believe that they actually care so you'll be disgusted and push them away.
You'll pull back the one who killed what little soul you had left and pretend like it's enough for you, you'll agree to any terms they put because you are desperate, and you'll always feel on edge and unable to calm down, your panic attacks will return, you'll start lying to everyone else again, you'll reduce yourself down to nothing so maybe it will go away.
It never does though.
So you continue on your broken and fucked up path that these people who were supposed to love you put you on.
The pain will reside in your mind and will make you throw up with fear, knowing it will all fall apart soon enough, and you'll ignore it.
You are used to the pain, you know you are making the same mistakes that you did before but you don't care anymore because you can't.
You have to stay alive, you have to keep going, you have to go back to that poor broken girl that you made hurt and you have to see all the damage you did, you'll have to read it and choke back your tears so you don't drown, you have to try and fix her, you have to know that she doesn't want your help and hates you, but you have no choice anymore.
It will never be an easy path for the devil, because the path was never your choice, it was decided for you by the parents who used to swear that they loved you, but would cut and hit and scream until you stopped crying, they would later tell you how much of a disgrace you are and one would leave you all together, he would forget your birthday that is tattooed on his chest, he would run away from his little girl because he was scared.

I wasn't born this way though, I was manufactured in a facility that believed in fear and shut down creativity, but I'm more than my past or my body or my scars, and I'm getting out of the hole that is this agony, I can never stop, for there is no rest for the wicked.