The Runt

Dear Life...


I will not be playing with you, for today.
I need a break, like a mad-woman in prison...
stares becoming rolling streams of tears;
make no mistake;
She knows she's gone over.

The headaches, disassemble her cognition, replacing it with pain instead.
Nerves feel raw, and internally exposed, shooting signals of pain that would make a grown man cry. 
Walking,
 needing a blanket, to muffle sound and light, withdrawn...
withdrawn, she's drawn...
and drawn...
and one day...
she'd been so drawn away,
she didnt know if it would even be worth,
finding her way back.

See, Life...this isn't just about today. This isn't just about anything...
but a began inability
to get back up.

My EVERYTHING grows weak, trembling...
though somehow the show of who I am stands for approval;
gotta survive...right?

But you know,
and I know...
I never belonged here.

I die here, everyday,
like a sentencing.
headaches taking everything from me,
but not before I had a chance to dream it up.

I go mad, pulling at my hair, watching the mind unravel, because, I failed.
and they are right; the enemies...
I have never been strong enough.
Maybe a genius in there...
but a weak runt, always sick.

And they won. As right as they are.
I have no place to run now. for i choose to bind myself by love, and sacrifice.
I am scared for her....

Something needs to change.