by Millie
Are you a victim of society?
Gorge away, punish the punishers. Take so much that it does not matter how much you loose. All your needs can be met with food, and clothes, and cars, and houses, and adoration of your fellow man, and sex, and drugs, and trinkets in stores. Society says they can. When you have enough, you will be happy.
Be judged.
You sell yourself; you are your own pimp and whore. I’m buying.
Victims, aren’t we all?
‘Let me go!’ Your mind screams, for your will cannot.
‘More, more…’ my mind whispers, referring not to your vitae but to the images that flood your psyche. People tend to think so quickly when they are dying, I have found. I imagine God is able to find the sinners as easily as I.
I remember dying. I remember being so close to knowing all… so close… so close…
Your mind wanders to a lovely creature. Oh, she was sweet. Innocence should fade, not be slaughtered. One never forgets that pain. More than one? More than two? The memories of abuse and violation run through your mind. You believe me to be your punishment.
And I am.
Such terrible things you have done to others, but all from some… self hate? Seen, oh yes, I understand, trying to know the moment just before your own innocence was taken from you, by watching it over, and over, and over.
Life slips away, as slowly as I can manage, drinking in every last drop of your final thoughts. Remorselessly, you blame the world for every bit of pain you have ever caused. You do indeed deserve to die.
I judge me.