Death surrounds, inevitable it comes as it may please, Through violence or age or of oft disease

Just this dawn I've had another taken from me, so I must once again face within a truly ugly beast

Because my aunt has died and I feel nothing

I was the last to learn, 'We knew you could wait, you're tough.' Why is it that you think that makes it just?

I can't fault your logic, I am a man of fact, but somehow you actions smack of dubious respect

Because of my strength I must bear these great burdens? Must I always be the man forced to endure then?

This story is posted elsewhere by the author. Help them out by reading the authentic version.

When can I lay down my suffering and just rest? Why, for other's sake, must I always be at my best?

I'm not okay. I still dieing, day by day.

Who comes to care for me? Who comes of my so-called Family? No one.

Why am I so disgusted with myself for being what you made me? Why can't I tend my needs without this restless guilt?

Why must I provide but never be provided for? Was this pack of parasites what I gave my 'best' years for?

My aunt is dead and I felt nothing, so why do I hate myself?

Why do I loathe this heartless monster you forced me to become!?

Why after this insult to my character do you expect me to lead the funeral charge!?

Why must I fight your battles unsupported? Because I was a mistake you wanted aborted!?

Because you hated yourselves and thrust that shame until me? Why can't I cut you away and just be free?

My aunt is dead... so why is this about me? You loved her didn't you?

But you hate yourselves more, isn't that right?