I'll hold my tongue

You think you're so clever.
You think no one sees your games, you think your the sheep hearder.
You think you're witty and mighty,with your sarcastic comments and rude remarks.
You are ignorant. I see what you're trying to pull.
My boyfriend's not a puppet, I won't allow you to pull his strings.
He's precious to me, he's my rock when I feel like a crumbling pastry, he's my smile when I have a carved in frown, he's my other half.
How dare you.
She beast.
Witch. Hag.
Cruel manipulating "mother" if that's what you like to call yourself.
You're not even his mother. You don't deserve that loving title when your insides are rotting meat and larvae.
You-I hate you.
I've never had a hatred for someone this strong, and it just won't go away. I've hated many, but let it slip through my fingers like the sand on a beach. But this, this is much different.
He's fighting to leave, he's defying you, he's sacrificing his needs for my own, and you can't stand that can you?
Is that why I'm no longer welcomed over there? Is that why you took away the house phone so "he wouldn't use it." Since you know he called me every night to say he loves me.
Is that why you hate me hideous beast? Because I give him a reason to want more, to fight for himself, and for us?
Yes that is the reason isn't it.
Once he's gone you'll have lost him forever. And it's not on his own accord though he agrees with me completely.
You will never see us again. I'd rather slit throats of innocent people and watch them choke on their own blood then let that happen.
For a girl so young I will rip out your tongue once he's out of that house.
I won't be the friendly, nice, good girl you assume I am.
I'm biting my time, watching as the clock ticks away closer to my breaking point.
You don't deserve to have a husband who loves you, you don't deserve to have a nice house, you don't deserve to live and if it weren't illegal I'd make sure you'd stop breathing all together.
Slowly.
Joyously.
Painfully.
So watch yourself woman. You're at the top of my list. Times running out and once the clock strikes twelve I'm coming for you.
But until then I shall hold back, and bite my tongue.