I hope you're happy.
During all this time,
I desperately hoped everything would return to normal.
But my wishful thinking only slapped me.
A quite literal slap you gave.
All of this pressure built up because of you,
and this is all I know for that will remain the same.
No matter what I do, violence is how you behave.
Your violence is so twisted.
Instead of you doing all the damage,
I'm the one who is forced to perform and endure the pain.
The way you torment me is more than cruel; it's wicked.
Most everyone sees you as you are: a witch.
But no one can do anything to make it stop.
Every time you make a move, I flinch.
I guess that's why the say Life's a Twitch.
Every day I feel like I'm going to explode.
You've taken control of my mind and body
and refuse to leave me alone no matter how much I cry.
Your attacks are brutal and wrong, and they send me to panic mode.
And despite all the agony,
you seem to know me best.
All my strengths and weaknesses are always pushed.
You've taught me how to make the unbearable moments funny.
So putting my hatred aside, thank you for making me bigger.
A bigger person, a bigger fighter,
a stronger humor, and stronger will.
A Resilient Ticcer