Rage - and killing my mother and father slowly

I don't want to see the world that way anymore
I don't want to feel that weak and insecure
As if you were my fucking pimp
As if I was your fucking whore

Black me out
I want to piss on the walls of your house
I want to chop those brass rings off
Your fat fucking fingers
As if you were a king-maker
As if, as if, as if
Black me out

Against Me!: Black Me Out


Rage! I finally feel rage! And not only pain, fear, guilt, shame. Because of your bullshit. I want to kill you. To kill you slowly, as slowly as possible, as painfully as possible, so that maybe you suffer at least some of what I have suffered in my life, of all the shit that you called "family", a "normal family", broken, without emotion, without seeing me, where I have never felt understood, seen, loved, where you have mistreated me, ignored me, violated me, and I don't know what else.

You, mother (I can't call you 'mom', it would be too affectionate), you used me for your needs, but you ignored my needs. Have you seen me just once as who I was as a child? Have you wondered just once what happened to me when I had my violent eruptions? I doubt it. Rather, you used me as your doll, to satisfy your need for affection, and you completely ignored my rejection, my resistance. Did it cross your mind just once that this is a form of violence? A form of abuse? And what did you think of walking into the shower when I was showering, and looking at my penis, touching it? Did you think just once that I might feel humiliated, violated? Did you think once of my shame? No. Because I was just your doll, and not a person.

I don't know how many times I wished you dead. I don't know how many times I imagined you dead. And now I feel like killing you, even though I know you're almost dead. I can't wait for the good news of your death. It would be a day of celebration.

And you, father (I can't call you 'dad' either), what did you do to make me suffer? Have you seen me just once? What you did is still a black hole for me, my mind is producing images, but I don't know which are real and which are not. Did you abuse me? Sexually? Surely you maltreated me, emotionally and possibly physically. You never wanted to see or understand me, not as a child, not as a teenager, not as an adult. I hate you. I never want to see you again in my life, neither alive nor dead. And I also feel like killing you, like I feel like killing my mother, slowly, painfully. Make you suffer. Suffer as I have suffered.

I hate you. I feel only rage. Rage, rage, rage, and more rage! Fuck you. Fuck you!