If there is a God,
i trust that He would have already killed me                                                             out of pity
      He would have put this suffering
  to an end by now

     That would be the mark of a forgiving God.
              
I’ve never been religious,
               but lately I pray every night.

Sometimes on my knees
until they’re bruised and red
against the carpeted floor
      as it digs into my skin,

sometimes curled into myself
   like a dying animal,
    my fingers clasped together
so tightly that they begin                                                          to­ turn white
and my nails start to cut                                        into my flesh.

I beg Him to either
save me
or
end me.

  So far, He hasn’t done either.