Healing from violence. Post Malone NYE 18/19
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This is hard. Harder than I thought. I thought about the full moon that night that I dislocated your jaw...
Called my Dad and told him you broke my heart. The scar on my left rib from the Jameson bottle you threw at my arm. My phone. Laying on the ground.
You hinted you were abusive. On my birthday. When you threw me out and threw me through the wall. The scars on my arms. The bruises from throwing me that hard. The vigilante who knocked on the door. Called the cops. Told em you were gone.
The way they beat you up. For being so unkind. My sister when she picked me up and grabbed my bags.
Told me. Don’t ever go back. Kissing my nephew on his little nose. Looking to show we could grow. Even as a baby. We know.
The start of the Post Malone show. Crying on the ground when I got the text. Telling me your friends wouldn’t let me in.
Sequins and boos. All the abuse. The cop who escorted me home. All healing. In a scar on my left arm. From the way you couldn’t ... in court when I told your Dad. He’s not a bad man. So I dropped charges for you.
I don’t know - the way he walked me home when I was drunk. Helped me into my car. The wine on the tour bus and all the Post Malone shows. It was never hard until you tore me apart. The day that followed in New York City. Walking alone, I was trying not to be sad, that no one could ever know. Why I never showed up backstage at the New Years Show. I guess I couldn’t know.
But his name - I never should have met him tho. He would still be alone. I never should have told the court, it’s not his fault, no I just go alone. Hear me out, this isn’t about, some man in a band. But the black lives matter movement and all he said. He killed my vibe when he walked in that night, and told me about her kid. He killed my heart when he said the show was about to start. He let me down. When I couldn’t be around the same crowd. All because of a man. Who couldn’t control his own hands. He still blames it on me. His friends still make me suffer for something THEY didn’t see. His friends are all undercover, they should be working for me. But his feelings I guess they got scared. When I said I didn’t care. His friends still look at me, like I’m a villain, when they couldn’t possibly be. Anything like that man. I’ll say it once again. Your hands are no place for abuse. Steve, this is your cue. Stop battering and beating women. Stop telling your friends Stop posting about being a good man. You ruined my Thanksgiving. You ruined an evening with my fam. You let me drive all through just to pick me up from a fight. You told me you were right. When the app came through. We both knew.
Still. A vigil. A silent. Night. I’ll let you know. It was never alright. Your friends. You’re mean. To think, 6 years later you had to blame it on me. When I tossed him out the door, for throwing me on the floor. xoxo ❤️ And if you’re reading this, which I hope you don’t.
I’ll never be alone, because I stayed away from you. I will never be abused. Because you’re gone. I will never sit alone, at another Post Malone Show. Because your friends don’t mean shit. I’ll still enjoy - every last bit. Of knowing, I will always be legit. I will never quit. And I don’t know how to live with it. So I wrote about it. And Dan, here’s the plan. If and when, I ever see you again. I will happily shake your hand, and seriously tell you you’re a bad man. Because you don’t have enough balls, to look at a woman, when you were wrong, and all this time I thought, we were just getting along. It doesn’t matter. It’s all wrong. It’s all gone. I have no remorse. I have no recourse. I have no discord for the person you were before. And ask away, I’ll still share your name, because a lot of other men wouldn’t have been so petty and dead. But you looked at me that day, didn’t say a damn thang. And instead, you shot an innocent girl in the back. I’ll never forget that. When you come to my show, I hope you sit alone. And let the police escort you and get you super drunk too. Cuz maybe you’ll feel my pain, of never being the one to blame. When you take off your jacket and she won’t let you see shit. When you’re too drunk to find a taxi. And the police actually protected me. When you’re the one on my crew. I would never do that to you. Abuse you. While you’re signing her long contracts, getting to know my contacts. I’ll still believe you, that you just didn’t know what to do. That your friend, was nothing like you. The end.