Why am I shaking?
I feel them around my neck. His hands are so rough.
Callused from the work. The hard work. The brutal work.
The work for me, he says. These hands are for me. This pain is for me.

Me; the one who doesn't appreciate. The one who doesn't deserve. The one that gets, gets it all.
I can't stand you anymore.

Do you realize that you killed me?

Do you realize that I am dead inside, and out. You killed me.
You killed me.

You fucking killed me.

I wish I could kill you back.

But you're already dead.

You are an ugly shell of an ugly man who has never been pretty.

Closure never comes.