These Fights

As if it is music,
my screams seem to you.
you hurt me so....
you make me sick

The pain driven onto me
is worse than i have felt before
I try to hide but it's not use
no matter where I go, you will see.

I want to quit
and finally give up
but I don't have the heart
for a suicide fit.

The thought of people
staring onto me
as I lie motionless
buried near the steeple.

That thought
just sickens me
and this fight
will not be fought.

I'll go on living
this life i loath
hopefully I'll survive
all the bruising.