Don’t Patronize Me

I’m not proud of it,
Nor do I want it to be what I am known for,
I don’t want it to swallow my personality,
Nor do I write in order to receive pity,
But tell me,
If something takes hold of your soul,
Collapses your rib-cage,
Controls your heart and lungs,
With just its fingertips,
How do you ignore such a savage rape,

It isn’t simple,
When someone asks me,
‘Why do you want to kill yourself?
Is it because you are seeking attention?”
Every hair on my head,
Each strand of hair along my arms,
Straightens due to fear,
Scared of ignorance,
For it is not blissful,
Rather it is painful,
To be told your pain,
Is as fictional as Cat in the Hat,

Do not analyze my attempted suicide,
Or my determination to construct,
The perfect hanging,
As just an attention seeking plea,
I’m not doing it for the world to criticize,
Instead, it is an act of vengeance,
My last-ditch attempt to quiet the insults,
When I claim them to be murderous,
It is not an act of exaggeration.
The voices are indeed homicidal,
Insults as sharp as a Machete,
Used in the Rwandan genocide,

Don’t patronize me,
Don’t tell me I should just take it in stride,
Or that I should be able to live a normal life,
Tell me, is it normal to have discussions with Stephen King’s IT,
Hallucinating Child’s Play on street corners,
Shadows dancing along brick walls,
Flipping through magazines,
Watching YouTube videos,
Both of them talking directly to me,
Commanding me to take hold of a kitchen knife,
And to carve my initials into my forearm,

How does one live a normal life,
After suffering from cruel fantasies,
Played out in real life,
Don’t patronize me,
I am not normal,
My brain is not functioning as it should,
This sickness,
Chokes me from the inside,
Causing reality to suffocate,
Leaving room for only chaos,

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