Do not touch me with fingers that have cupped my mouth trying to keep me silent.

I am burnt.

These days, I find myself in a constant battle between the things I love and the things I need to push away because they don't know how to properly love me back. You have always been one to turn my feelings into a noose I want to **** myself with. You have always made me hate myself for having a heart that pumps the ink I use to attempt writing suicide letters with after making art on my wrists for too long. These days, I find more hope in the thought of dying... more peace in the thought of a final breath. We both get a different kind of pleasure when I beg you to choke me between satin sheets; I am looking for a beautiful way to to make my heart stop. The day I realized I stopped loving you was the day you told me you didn't like who I was becoming; you couldn't love the monster that was growing inside me. I've become to exhausted to keep trying to push him out. Its his eyes you're looking into now. Its his lips you've been kissing. It's his words telling you that I can no longer try and focus on my future when I don't even see a tomorrow for myself. It's hard to convince people you're okay with being alive after they see you looking for all the high places...

I've given up on trying.

Please don't tell me there's a light at the end of the tunnel; I've been running in the dark for too long for you to convince me I'll ever find my way out of this **** place.
I've become numb to whatever's trying to destroy me, I just wish it wasn't taking so much time to get the job done.