Of Clocks

I awaken.
The sky is still dark.
The air is cold.
The clock on my desk reads 04:28.
Her voice, shaking with anger, thrashes in my head.

What did you eat last night? Are you going to listen to me today, or will I have to scream at you because you're a fatass with no control?

It is this voice that rips me from my sleep.
Jolting me back into reality.
When I hesitate, she laughs.
Throwing her beautiful head back, her glistening black hair falling back
Her green eyes sparkling with a darkness that is haunting.
Her white teeth gleaming as she laughs at my despair.

When I don't answer, her hand lashes out, hitting my head and making the room spin.
Nothing I do is ever enough.
She will never be satisfied.

Still, I will do everything I can to make her love me.
I will have her approval.
I will be enough for her.

Even if it kills me.

No, this is not poetry. These are my thoughts. God, help me, these are my thoughts.