Bruised and Beaten

I'm trying to be a good person, an honest person. I have my life, my beliefs. Even my fears define me. And yet you will find a way to put me down. Make me less than what I am. I used to think I deserved this. That maybe I must be a terrible person if you have to attack me this way. And then I learned that I am beautiful the way that I am.

Still, something is wrong if you can drip venom onto my skin and let me absorb the toxins. I fall so easy.

If the world wasn't already full of shadows I would hide. But, somehow you always know where to find me. There is no place to hide. Might as well face my (nonexistent) faults. See how many hits you get before I break. Before my body bleeds, my tears fall.

I'm not a good person. I'm really not. Would you really treat a good person this way? Would you really torment and torture me, if you knew how much pain it caused?

Maybe. You love to see me on the floor. Ridiculing even my body for not shedding enough. I really am not good enough. I really am.
Not.
Good.
Enough.