chickens coming home to roost

congrats on getting away with child molestation n rape.  while you’re busy bitching about how I’m no-contact, I’m regretting not killing you when I had the chance.  I could’ve burned you alive.  I could’ve bashed your head in like you tried to do to mine.  I could’ve stabbed you on any of the many occasions you “checked in on me” by ripping the doors open when I was in the bathroom.  I could’ve just let you choke on your vomit when you were ODing.  I probably should’ve.  Could’ve been “your own fault” to everyone.  I nearly walked down to the house this summer, since I was visiting some friends and your house wasn’t too far.  I didn’t, though.  Didn’t even kill myself.  not yet, at least.  now we both have to deal with the lack of chickens.  You know, like the one that you murdered in front of me because you knew he was my favorite.  I won’t forget, you won’t remember.  if reincarnation was real, I must’ve been someone like you in my last life, because no one could deserve this hell unless they really did some nightmarish shit.  I don’t believe in that shit, though.  Justice only comes if you are lucky, and i am very, very unlucky.  there are no chickens, and even if there were, you’d just kill them.  congrats again.