Why?

Why?  

Why do you do this?  

Why do you rip every last shred of hope I have as if it’s a piece of artwork you aren’t satisfied with?  

Why do you point out my flaws as if I don’t already see them?   As if you know it’s hard enough to suppress these feelings of anguish- of agony.  

As if pointing them out will only cause me to cut my skin to form a canyon

And

Hope that my anxieties will drip away with every last drop of crimson tears,  

Cause me to get so high on drugs that I reach the Heavens, unable to go back,  

Get me so drunk that with each sip of that warming alcohol, my brain becomes foggy and it forgets things for me,  

That the rope I climb in gym class is not only reaching for the bell, it’s reaching for my life.  

The noose embraces my throat like a sweet release- a kiss goodbye.   

I can finally breathe without you forcing the air out of me.  

Without you making me feel small.  

Why do you belittle me?  

It’s like I’m only a tiny bug, skittering across the floor desperately trying to save my life.  

You’re the boot taking delight in my horrible death.  

Like I’m a bumbling moron without a place in the world for you to gawk and laugh at.  

To throw rocks at me to “deform” me more than I already am.  

Why is it I’m never good enough?  

In your eyes, I’m incessantly screwing up.  

You take the place of a saw and cut into me with your words, claiming you were “only joking”.  

Why is it joking if it’s always running through my head, making me believe in your lies?  

Why do you continue to torment me with words you had specially crafted for the war of good and evil inside my head?  

I scream for help, but you seem to laugh.  

My cries tear through the air like a dagger in Macbeth, but you don’t seem to hear.  

Your eyes are sewn shut so you don’t see your ignorance or the pain you have inflicted.  

Your ears have nails roughly rammed inside so you cannot hear the disagreements or pleas for mercy.  

Your mouth is a twisted lollipop, only tasting the sweetness of the blood you’ve drawn.  

Everyday, I begin to lose my grip on sanity.  

Everyday, you stomp on my fingers, grinning devilishly as I begin to fall more and more into a mass of diabolic tendrils only wishing to feast upon my happiness.  

One day, I will eventually die.  

One day, I will fall willingly into the void you oh so want me to suffer in.  

But, as I’ll plummet down into this dark abyss, I will only ask once more;  

Why?  

Why do you hurt me?  

Why do you numb me?  

Why do you make me suffer?  

Why?