Is it my fault?

How far does a person have to hurt until they can't take it anymore?
What methods of torture can we use to inflict all the pain in the world on a person?
When we do inflict these methods of torture, will we finally feel a sense of retribution?
I feel like Christ
Walking through the city and carrying a cross on my back
I can try to say it was my fault
At least, that is what others insist on telling me
That I was "selfish" and "only thinking of myself"
Oblivious and unawares of all the other insults they threw at my face
The truth is, however, that I can look back to how empty I feel inside
Then I am not so sure anymore
If it was my fault or theirs
See I can feel the feelings of the entire Planet
From this sensitivity, I can surely mistake that there is some sort of flaw in my own emotionality
Only then I can also see the criticisms of everyone else
Realizing just how true and how potent these feelings are for some people
Then I am not certain anymore
I feel then like I am being beaten by a stick over and over
Over and over
Until the blood finally pours itself out completely from my veins
Then I still have no solace
I have no comfort
The empty streets
The books filled with text
Sounds from a party playing far off into the night
To which I was not invited
I cannot say which or what started it
Only that I am not sure whether I am flying
Or falling off the edge
I am not certain anymore
The World is less certain
Within it, I have become a noiseless demon

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