Who are you?

        I shouldn’t say, I don’t mean anything. 

You take from me.

                  You could help me but you won’t.

Resentfully,  I don’t know if you get it. 

   I’m broken.

 One hinge is pulled apart, you have been rough with me. 

                       And yet,       

                I wish you had come home because it was cheerful for a little. 

                                    But I didn’t wake from my dreary silence                                                                                 when you were slipping that rope around my neck.

       I dunno what it is, but it’s a lonesome place,

and it always was, to be dead and alone. 

But now I know what stillness is. 

                                   And this, stillness

                                  Is better than 

                          your 

                                hands 

                                   slipping a rope around 

                                                                    my neck.