i play the victim

to feign innocence

as the world crashes down

and my hands are printed in red

it's obvious but i try to hide it

with pleading eyes and a tear streaked face

so i don't feel so alone

isolated with the thoughts that brought me here

to the running and crying and screaming

all my fault

but

i

can

pretend-

I live to be the victim

born with a depression

I will later blame on my mother

not present to defend herself

to a body that

in utero

had only wanted

for us both to survive together

-“Why do you always play the victim?”

Why do you keep playing the victim?

The one who’s lost it all.

The one who gets blamed for everything.

You don’t know what it’s like to be a victim.

You don’t know what it’s like to walk in groups,

Because you fear what someone might do to you.

You don’t know what it’s like to dress in a certain way,

So that you don’t attract too much attention.

Don’t play the victim when you have no idea,

The pain I know and the things I shouldn’t have to fear.

My words are chosen in specific ways,

So I don’t offend gentle egos.

My anxiety varies throughout the day.

When it’s day, I know that I can scream and be seen,

But at night I’m in a defensive mindset,

I’m prepared to protect myself.

Don’t call yourself a victim.

Victims walk down the street carrying knives for protection.

Why do I play the victim?

Because It's all a bit of fun until somebody gets hurt

and who's gives a fuck about my nightmares?

But it's no use in screaming when they're right there

Because no one cares

You go ahead and get some sleep I'll take the night shift

yeah, just pretend like I don't exist

Everybody's on the brink of crisis

I'm so used to feeling like this

No one gives a fuck about my nightmares

But it's nothing you should worry yourself about

(TRIGGER WARNING: SELF HARM)

They said they could hear her cries.

They said they could see her scars.

They said they could feel her pain.

They said they could smell her blood.

They said they could taste her sorrow.

She said she would sob 'till morning.

She said she would cut 'till she bled.

She said she would pinch 'till she bruised.

She said she would smear red 'till she washed.

She said she would cry 'till she'd made a river.

So I asked, "Why do you keep playing the victim?"

She said nothing.

So I waited for her to speak.

. . .

. . .

. . .

"Playing the victim is how I gain the attention of others."

Why do I keep playing the victim?

God.

I wish I knew.

It's all I've ever known.

This pain.

I don't know where I acquired it,

but it found me,

at birth.

Bore with a heavy heart.

It has taken me so long,

to realise,

the toxicity of these patterns,

but I'm ready to change.

To use myself in a more positive manner.

Creating

not destroying.

Building.

No longer the victim

I will play.

This is life.

It's a game,

but I'm choosing a new story,

a new role to play.

tell me, my love, was it fun

to see me weep to see me bleed

for you

all for you for your love

tell me, was it amusing, to

see your paint

red and blue and red and purple all over

my body your canvas

fingers entwined with the devil, sly

smile full of pearl white teeth

your blood blacker than your words

and then red, red, red, all i see is red

on me on you

on the carpet on the

walls so thick no one

hear my screams

until...until...

it's too late

take me

my lungs my skin my

heart all yours my love ALL YOURS

THAT'S ALL YOU EVER WANTED, ISN'T IT

SO TAKE THEM WITH YOU

RID ME OF THESE SINS THESE MISTAKES THESE

FEELINGS I ONCE CALLED LOVE

NOW DROWNED BY THE GUILT

your phantom touch

all over me all over

the body you once painted your love on

i can feel your caress

your cold, dead breath

on these hands tainted with blood.

your blood

you remember don't you, my love?

that look in your dead dead soulless eyes

those last words you uttered:

"why do you keep playing the victim?"

Why do you

Keep playing the victim?

When you are the one

Causing yourself

All this pain?

Only you to blame

For those scars on your heart,

Making decision to keep

One unworthy love

In your life.

You have the power

To release yourself

From these chains

That shackle your future

To a significant other

Who is undeserving

Of all the love

You have to offer.

Why do you

Keep playing the victim

When you have the power

To change the circumstances

And run away?

‘No,’ said Susie.

‘Well then I’m going home!’ said Hannah.

‘It’s my birthday. Stay. You can be the patient.’

‘You don’t want that!’ said Hannah. ‘You’re just saying it.’

Susie blushed and handed over the bandages.

‘I can’t do it.’

‘Put your arm out.’ Susie wrapped up Hannah’s arm.

‘Hannah! What are you doing? I told you...’

‘Mom!’ Hannah struggled as her mum took the bandages off her.

‘Play another game, kids.’

‘My mom hates bandage games.’

‘Your mom hates games!’

‘No!’

‘Why do you always play the patient, Hannah?’

‘I asked Susie. I want to.’

‘I don’t trust Susie. You should be the doctor or nurse. You don’t want to be sick, again.’

‘It’s just a game, mommy.’

‘Mommy’s worried.’