The Wrong Hands

you make me sick.
you make me feel guilty for feeling sick.
you make me curl up and cry out with pain.
you make me feel bad for you.
you make me hate you for making me feel bad for you.
you make me feel guilty for hating you.
and then you make me sick again. 

All I wanted was to be loved
to feel loved
to feel less alone
but now
I keel
over
with pain
in my
stomach
at the
thought of
what you
think of
and think
about
doing
to, with
me.

The End

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