Overhaul to a conked out spirit

I utter to him
He utters to me.
My sensitivity, it engorges
and solicits to be gratis.
Does he distinguish what's turn out to be of me?
He slaps and thrust
thumps in abundance
I make out damn well, that it possibly will mar more.
I attempted not to sob and not illustrate the ache
But insightfully down I identify he's captivating this amusement.
To me he's ideal but oh so extremely futile.
I will by no means, ever over draw closer this soreness.
I'm nil but a blow bag, to satisfy his antagonism’s eagerness
I clutch my armrest, and shuffle off to my family.
They inquire what's erroneous
I lie and articulate I knock down.
Why do I persistently set off throughout with this agony?
These moans are for him, and so as to I anticipate he knows.
These sentiments, this soreness... why ought to it demonstrate?
If I conceal it away, I'd be deceitful to myself.
He's offensive and pitiless
And my folks commence to be troubled
They're alarmed that he'll grounds the decease of me.
It fetch me to snuffle, because I distinguish that they're precise.
They say "Tread out of bed!" They advise me to brawl!
I enlighten them the reality "I won’t be able to"
It would shred me away from each other.
So I toddle off to my room, and undertake to patch up my kaput heart
But for how long ?

By aza