Sick

I'm sick of feeling like the world is not round. Like the things and ways I grew with are lies. It's as if the love you've given and the hugs I've taken were fake . Sick, so sick of your smiles and the little hugs.For you never gave me the real thing I wanted, love and compassion. I'm tired of feeling so desolate, the desert has more fulfillment then I do. When I give you love and compassion I expect it back. But, instead you take it and slap me with it. Sick of trying to please you for you could never be pleased. The worst sickness, disease, or plague could never compare to how painful and hurt I feel. So doctor, I beg you to heal me for I have become sick.