You are the darkness in me.
You fill me with dread.
You know how to get into my mind.
You take some perverse pleasure in my sorrow.
I just can't shake you off of my back.
You know just what buttons to push 
  to bring me down.
You make me so angry.
Or is it me that makes myself angry?
Why do I let you get to me?
It's a battle I always seem to lose.
My life is a war.
Fighting with you.
Or is it me fighting with myself?
I just don't know.
I let you get away with murder.
My blood is spilled.
It's all on my own hands.
You should be the guilty one.
You always bring out the bad in me.
And I let you.
I am filled with frustration.
Rage and hate follow close behind.
This is my suffering.


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