Tear me down.
Push me low and watch me drown.  

Amusement as you watch me struggle and gasp.
Your enjoyment is on full display, topped off with your evil rasp.

Once all is done and your ownership is re-certified. You kiss me softly, your gestures now tender.
Each time I'm still terrified but, hearing those two words is reason enough to surrender.

I have very little desire to live.
I cannot sustain my grip.
It seems that my life is slipping away from me. As easily as water pouring through a sieve.
Drip, drip, drip.

Sip after sip, they all take their drink.
Does it quench their thirst?
Seeing me at my worst?
Watching my self-esteem shrink?

Will my misery entertain?
Will he salivate at the prospects and their resulting effects?
Joy, he wouldn't contain.

"Oh girl, the things I could do." He did almost coo.
"I want you to remember this encounter long after I'm through."

"With fire, you chose to play. Such a childish fool, one only gets burnt that way."

Why does my creativity choose to bloom?
Why does it grow as I contemplate delving into the darkness, pitching my tent in the blackness, amongst all of the doom and gloom?
Will my soul be efficiently sort out and collected for The Man In Red to consume?

Living
In
Fear
Every day.
___________________­

Continually, my heart does stutter.
My head is full of all this painful clutter.
I wish that I could draw the blinds or pull down a lockable shutter.

I know that they are waiting, in the shadows. Waiting to pounce.
What they're not aware of is that my wish is their wish too.
The doctor may look at his watch, a time he will announce. My dream will become a reality and their wish will become true.

Muted.
Tongue tied.
That was a clear fact, couldn't be disputed.
To make her voice heard. Countless times she'd tried.
So from now on, a new tactic she has applied.
Head hung low, as she walks in silent stride.
Emotional shutdown: access denied.

The last time we were able to properly communicate was as far back as September.
She sent me a silly photo, I remember.

I miss her, I hope she knows.
More and more, as by time so swiftly goes.
When each day draws to a darker close.

I'm not irritated, angry or annoyed.
These circumstances we just could not foresee.
With this fact, I'm sure, she would agree.
It's completely impossible to avoid.

It can't be helped. With the situation, I will never complain.
Sadly, this has made me abundantly aware of the shadows as daylight begins to fade.
The clouds and the rain.
My world is void of all color, leaving me with nothing but shade.

I know not.
Reasons why, long since forgot.
Let myself fester: rot.

Self-medicate.
I am full to the brim.
Hate.
When shall I draw my last breath? That's the debate.
My chances of receiving an answer? Very slim.

Too cowardly to end it at a time of my own choosing; on a whim.