The Abused Gothic Boy -Poem-

Oh no, here we are again.
Hit pause, I need to think.
I need to get my breathing just right before I let you in.
I need to fake that smile you love and then ask you how you've been.
It's just that I don't want your fingers near my hips or my thighs or my lips.
I don't want you touching me, I'm a fucking boy not your newest fucking love toy.
The inflatable, fuckable, loveable, abuse-able, gothic doll.
Comes in a range of black or black packed with angst and scars and tears and woe.
Oh, and before this gets going can I just say,
That I never fucking liked you anyway?
Just fuck me now and make it quick.
I have a new life and a smile that tells lies that I need to go pick.
I just want to be a little less dead,
Maybe a dash of happiness or a cheerful little voice in my head.
Your punches don't flatter me or make my skin glow..
Your punches fucking shatter me and make me feel low.
I never wanted you; I'm not your fucking bitch,
Your just another wound on my arm that I'm gonna need to stitch.
My bag is pre-packed in the other room and it's all filled with my things,
I'm gonna get going soon; be free to finally spread my black wings.
You were my legal guardian when things at home got so bad
Now your causing me pain and acting like Dad.
Your filling and pulling and licking and kissing
While I 'm choking and dying and writhing and wishing.
This one last game that you're gonna win,
This one last kiss that I'm not gonna miss
It's coming I know it but tonight I wont cry but don't flatter yourself…
I'll still hope that you die.