I want them to taunt and abuse me;
I want them to hit at and curse me.
Not because it makes me happy,
But because I need to find a reason.
A reason to rage and fight and bleed;
A reason to beg and plead.
I wish I could but understand
Why I hate everything about me.
I wish that rather than speak behind my back,
They would say it to my face.
I wish that my friends held me tighter,
Yet still I long for space.
I know not what is wrong with me,
Or why I feel this way;
Why sadness and anger roil within me;
Why I cannot pray.
I feel helpless which in turn inspires rage.
I feel useless which in turn inspires pain.
Yet what hurts the most,
Is knowing that I have no excuse,
For feeling what I feel;
For taking this abuse.