12,14,16 your age doesn't matter

The beast doesn't care

The beast is a predator right

You can't blame an animal for being an animal

Deadman walking

The prey simply lying there, buttered and warm

The beast understands these behaviors, these poses

They are presenting them to their alpha

A nice plump, juicy peach right?

Nothing that delicate, that beautiful could just, exist, right?

Oh no

That's for the beast

The beast that is never full

His appetite, Insatiable

It's not the feed that tickles his parchment

No, it's the hunt

The lustful stalking

The starving glances

The gentle contact before the kill

The beast doesn't like its prey happy and safe

The beast NEEDS it scared

It is said to add to the flavor

The prey is seasoned in absolute terror

For then its tastes the sweetest

Never was there a time the prey didn't know of its destiny

Ever since the prey was a small creature, they knew

I mean that's the life of prey, right?

They still have a wonderful, magnificent time of course

They are still alive, still breathing

But it's fleeting

The prey has always been prey

The beast has always had the prey

That's nature, that's expected

I'm tired of being prey

It's time to kill the beast

Simply ranking which phrase hurt the most is almost impossible.

You could say the coldest, most hurtful thing someone said to me, was the first hurtful thing I heard. Because after this, you start to become numb. Each hurtful word gets less, and less painful. However, the bruises they leave are still very much there.

Whenever I look in the mirror I hear,

"Fat"

"Whale"

"Slut"

"Cunt"

They echo in my head like an alarm I can't turn off.

Perhaps the worst thing was when someone I cared for told me I should have said "stop."

Or maybe it was when my mother told me I needed to stop being a victim.

Could it have been when I was taught being gay was a sin?

When people I thought were friends, said they would pray for me?

I guess you could say it was when an older man held me close to him in the dark woods, and my father wished I was "stronger."

There was a time when a boy said he'd rather kill himself than be liked by me or the other guy who said I was absolutely nothing.

It's hard to decide which one was worse.

I'd have to say the coldest thing said to me was "I love you."

Because after you've felt true hatred for yourself, the thought of someone loving you is impossible.

Love sounds like pretty lies.

Lies that are used to hurt.

To take advantage of.

And to kill.

Lust.

It's commonly associated with guilt.

Temptation, promiscuity.

Sexual desire.

Sins.

But it was not wrong with her.

With her, it was something beautiful.

Lust seems to be dismissed if it's between a man and a woman.

But, man, and man?

Women and women?

That's when lust becomes something horrible.

However, that's not true.

When I held her in my arms and felt her breath on my neck, there was no way it was terrible.

The way she kissed my lips, put her hands on my thighs, whispered secrets into my ear,

Lust engulfed us.

It hit us in waves, created ripples, and came down in waterfalls.

We were trapped in a bubble.

A lovely, warm, and safe bubble, made by our own creation.

The overwhelming want and need for each other.

The only thing we could feel was lust.

Lust for each other.

It is impossible to be against such a feeling once you have felt it.

Lucky enough to desire or to be desired.

She taught me the difference between sin and virtue.

Lust is not something to steer clear of, but it is something that stops you in your tracks.

It makes you live in the present, and feel each feeling.

People may find sin in what we did, who we are, and what we do, but that lust brought the greatest feelings to ever be experienced.

Lust.