The Sad Story of a Used Eraser

I am a used eraser.

A person who has had me from the very beginning of my time has
Used, abused, and then tossed aside my very existence.

They once loved me.
Needed me for their daily life.
Now that they have used me: I am done and over with.
Now, they only need me to abuse so they can be happy.
Feel better, some sort of twisted joy they get from abusing a wee little eraser.
Hurting it everyday, without any apologies. Not that they would matter.
The user, only speaks to me when they need something or is angry.

Piece by piece I float away on the wind.
Until all that is left is some piece of rubber that can fit in nowhere.
Yet, the user and abuser has one last laugh by tearing that small ring of rubber up.
Piece by piece.
Still yet, piece by smaller piece. Kicking it while it's down.
Having the last laugh by scattering them all in different places.
So that even if the eraser were to be whole again,
It would never find every piece that the user and abuser scattered.

Behind Closed Doors

Behind closed doors

no one sees the bad deeds.

When the curtains close and

I am backstage.

When the party ends and

it's time to go home.

Even though I'm not alone,

I'm alone.

I get told I'm crazy and worthless.

Lazy and--now I'm hopeless.

The mind games played by the insane

make me so confused.

So confused...

What is the truth?

I don't know.

At least not right now.

Most days I feel a cold numbness within me.

Self preservation I suppose.

To keep all of my feelings from becoming exposed.

I cannot stay in this state

and I refuse to do so.

I shall now restate my previous question:

What is the truth? to 

Who is the truth?

For Jesus is the truth.

I know he will help me through this.

I have the hope that he will.

Because I don't like this. This feel.