The Sting No Longer Comes

The sting no longer comes. With every crack of the whip, I just wait. I simply wait to lose consciousness, Wait for the blood to spill, I hope this time it spills enough, Maybe if I'm lucky, I'll never wake back up. The sting no longer comes. When tied to the bed posts, I let him have his way. No point to fight or struggle, My body is used to it, anyways, No longer do I feel, no longer is there pain, Yet that only frightens me, I crave pain more than anything. I crave that which will lead me to be deceased, Where maybe then, I can finally rest in peace. The sting no longer comes. The sun wants to help, its burns me on the fields, I believe it knows my sorrows, I believe it knows it all. Perhaps it sees my mother, wherever she may be, It doesn't matter, either way, she's forever dead to me. The sting no longer comes. I despise my younger brother, for dying during birth. How he escaped so easily, without a single scratch, Harsh I may be, But I mean what I say, Suppose I'm just so jealous, Of how easily he got away. The sting no longer comes. Always alone, beaten if I'm not. Beaten if I am, Make me bleed, If there really is a God, I pray he hears my plee. Oh please, don't let this child live, who's now inside of me.