they don't see. they don't see the misplaced guilt pushed upon you from birth. unspoken curses, unwanted circumstances, regrets denied over and over, but felt deep in your bones, in your heart, in your mind. they don't see that dead was what you were supposed to be. never meant to scream as you exited the darkness, never meant to breathe, never meant to wield such destruction on a forced union, never meant to be the cause of it. they don't see the poison seeping through your pores, running through your blood, dripping from your fangs. poison passed down from feeling, knowing, you are unwanted, unneeded, a mistake. poison from arguments done in dark corners, waking up in the morning feeling like you've walked into a pristine war zone. they don't see the knife in your mind ready, willing, able to slice, to cut, to kill, to bring, finally, the respite you've been craving since you were seven. they don't see that quiet makes you think and thinking lets the voices in. thinking lets in the guilt, makes you feel. silence calls attention to the poison in their words, to the denial in their eyes, the disappointment in the curves of their mouths, and the furrows of their brows. silence makes you hear it: that your existence is an unfortunate gift that has ruined the lives of two people through their union.
They ask why you still keep going. I'm too afraid to end it all.
