You are the thing that makes me sick. You are the dark black coal that fuels the burning anger within me. You are the reason that I wish to end every moment of everyday.
Every day you call and every day you whisper words; words of hatred and words of lies. The type of lies that make me small. The type of words that pierce in the night like an assassin that creeps for his victim. The calls of the dawn that bites into my sorrowful life before the sun even breathes.
Every hour you paralyze me of my abilities and dreams. As you freeze me in time and shove me over to break into a million pieces, I hear your demented chuckle. Laughing at me, holding me back to lack confidence in who I am.
Every minute you throw me into my past hoping I never return. You hope to make me stay in one place rather than move beyond the dark.
Every second you beat me and scrape me of my humanity. Skinning the outside of my layered walls that which covers the suffering I hid. Beating the bricks one by one as each stone of pleasure and joy shatters to the hard cold floors.
Every night you hold me in the darkness as your form takes shape beyond my mind. You coddle me in the darkest imagination possible whilst I cry myself to sleep until the moment with you fades.
You are the thing that never runs out. You are the emotions that I dread. You are the chain and ball on my ankle. You are the demons I fight.
But I will fight until my time is up.