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I tried to feel happy. I tried so hard yet I couldn't get it right. I am only capable of feeling sixth tenths of hurt and sadness and the last fourth filled of hot raging anger.
I am not sorry for how I wilted with the skinny blue noose around my neck as you continued to cut my stem and rip at my thorns; I am not sorry.
I am not sorry about the words that tumbled out of my enraged tongue slipping through my thick brownish-pink lips and falling right into your lap of lies; I am not sorry.
I am not sorry for the night I was no longer myself and you knew this yet you continuously cut at my only working heartstring until it was no more; I am not sorry.
I am not sorry mother, please let me be.
I am no longer sorry for the ways you made me feel about myself as you force fed me lies about me not being worthy of love as I was nothing more than a mistake; I am no longer sorry.
I am no longer sorry about being my father in every way possible or not at all; I am no longer sorry.
I am not sorry for how I am going to make you regret the way you treated me; I am not sorry as I seek the bittersweet taste of happiness trickle down from my lips, past my teeth and down my throat swallowing my happiness before it's gone.
