Giving Up

What is there here for me
Amongst all these black and white sighted people?
What is there here for me behind these locked doors that I cannot escape?
I’m shut up in my mind but laid bare, in front of all these prying eyes
And tearing fingers that make me bleed,
Oh, so much more than I ever did.

“Love”

It’s a four letter word.
Oh, it’s so much worse.
Tossed around so casually
Don’t you know the damage it does?
Don’t say you love me.
Don’t say you care.
It’s just an excuse to
Watch me scream as you rip my thoughts apart,
Make me question everything I have left.
But it’s alright, when you take the pain I could control
And give it to me tenfold.

So don’t you dare touch me
Don’t you lay a fucking hand on me.
This was my choice
I FOUGHT for this. I CHOSE this self-destructive bliss.
Can’t you see you’re breaking me?
Do you even care?
I don’t want your
Fabricated
White-picket-fence happiness.
I want my blood on the floor.
I want my knife in my wrist.
Why did I listen to you?
Why did I give this up?

Why can’t I stop killing myself?