What am I to you? If not a priority than what? A time filler, a toy to be played with, someone to occupy your company when you get lonely? I fear I’ll never truly know the answer, or maybe I’m scared to face the answer I’ve already been given. My brain constantly telling me I’m nothing but a waste of space, a piece of ass who was born for nothing more than your enjoyment and yours alone. The flickers of pain I feel are simply the cards I have been dealt, and there is no arguing with fate. A stake to the heart would hurt less than this poison you’ve spilled into my mouth by the presence of your tongue, is it love? It flows through my being with so much warmth I don’t think I’d be able to tell the difference. And how dare I care or feel anything that involves me, myself and I alone, when I’m only meant to feel for you. You remind me constantly of your needs and wants and put to shame my thoughts, how invalid they must be. You trace the scars on my body with your talons, never letting me forget how deeply you are attached to me. I’m tired of fighting a battle that simply cannot be won, of fighting the army that is you, and how much destruction you have caused in your wake. I’m tired, I’ll rip the white dress from my body and lay bare for you in surrender. It’s tattered pieces like a white flag waving.