Do you think I enjoy this?
Trying to sleep,
all adrenaline pumped,
as the sun spears through my window-
magnifying the situations' intensity-
with my knuckles cut
and feet all bruised,
shaking for hours like
a broken-down washing machine
as it spins round, and round
and round...
Do you think I enjoy
this black mist in my gut,
that'll surely kill me one day,
for, it only gets worse
as it spews and seeps
into everything I do.
Call me the 'void',
which I know I am.
What I once was
all seems to be gone;
you're killing me, but
do you think I enjoy
hurting you?
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