No lies.
I didnt say anything wrong.
Just something he didn't like.
That made him mad.
What ever you do,
Don't. Make. Him. Mad.
But is it my fault?
Is it my fault that I want to get away?
Away from him.
But don't mention the idea.
That makes him mad.
And unless you want to feel his palm sting your cheek.
Or his fingers around your throat.
With spit coming out of his cigarette scented breath onto your face as you struggle to breathe.
Don't. Make. Him. Mad.
He lives with hate.
And i try not to be like him.
But now I have hate.
Hate for what he's done.
I have hate,
For him.