When that first tear rolls down your cheek burning, you know you've held it in for too long.
The pleading. . .
The begging. . .
The screaming. . .
The tear-stained pillows. . .
PLEASE, LORD!
Please. . .
Help me!

Where do I belong?
Why can't I die already?
Why do you still want me here?
How can I better serve you?
How do I know others really care?

I've gotten so used to trusting people only for them to hurt me.
People hurt me without even realizing it.

GOD, I'm trying to make it work. . .