If there is a God,
i trust that He would have already killed me out of pity
He would have put this suffering
to an end by now
That would be the mark of a forgiving God.
I’ve never been religious,
but lately I pray every night.
Sometimes on my knees
until they’re bruised and red
against the carpeted floor
as it digs into my skin,
sometimes curled into myself
like a dying animal,
my fingers clasped together
so tightly that they begin to turn white
and my nails start to cut into my flesh.
I beg Him to either
save me
or
end me.
So far, He hasn’t done either.