Another face attached to the word lie. Another face that I vividly see. You lied to her. And you lied to me. How many girls will choose cheaters and liars? How many girls will let themselves get treated this poorly? How many times must I be the strong one who refuses to go back and “let’s see “?
You reap the crops that you sew. And you’ve planted rotted words and twisted bits of hearts that he’s jarred. You’ve planted the rotting pieces of the vile filth that you both are.
You are the queen of his trash. He is the king of the liars and the cheats and you choose to accept lies piled high with filth and ash.
He is proud of his crown. He likes it to dig into his skull until the blood runs down. Blood makes him feel. The medications keep him numb. I seem to know the truths that you don’t: he hurts others to feel a little bit alive and it makes you look dumb.
A whore in a dress is still worthless as trash. A cheater in his best is still worth less than all that whore’s cash.
A crown on a king that rules over liars, whores, and cheats only has his queen. A queen with children he claims to hate, a queen with a brain on the same level as a child of eight.
I understand the choices she made. Liars trump lonely and Cheaters beat silence when all you have is a weak mind and no self worth to find.
He’d rather not be alone with his bottles of pills and a lonely life of basements and chills.
The king and the queen of a pile of trash. A pile of lies. How am I the only girl who refuses to get out of that line?