My God has changed my heart

The clock ticks slowly, and the next I realize, its become tomorrow.  Another day lived and passed.  How many more were left?  How much longer must I endure this life?  Listening intently to the sounds coming from the all around the house, it’s become apparent to me that silence isn’t all that silent.  Creak, drip, crackle, chirp, whimper, whine, drop, squeak, snore, KABOOM!  The ice machine dropped off another load of ice, like the stork with the unwelcome baby.  At this I turn to a relevant tangent.  The unwelcome baby, such as myself, like the ice being dropped, has become a useful burden.  No one wants to deal with the trouble.  No one enjoys the sound.  Yet everyone uses it, everyone reaps the benefits.  Click, tick, click, tick, the clock reads 12:02.  Life is running its course far to slow.  My mind is traveling too fast for me to keep up.  Everything eats at my soul.  People’s words replay, images form, and I’m at attack with myself.  Almost like rewinding a scratched CD and playing it over and over to try to get it past that one bad aspect, that one skip, that one scratch.  I taste my own blood, I bit through my cheek again.  I run my tongue over the open wounds and the long formed scars.  No one even knew.  I almost wished to stop sometimes, but I’m afraid that could lead to doing something terrible, something regretted more in the long run.  Such as eating, or speaking.  I worry myself.  Who am I?  I find myself in constant disagreement with myself.  There is never a moment of peace within my soul.  I say that I don’t hate, but I find that now quite untrue.  I have so much hatred, more than any other emotion or feeling, and it seems every drop is directed towards myself.  I know better.  My God knows better.  These demons are consuming, and they have the best of me.  I hope I wither into nothing.  Disappear.  The clock ticks slowly, and I’ll soon find myself in attempt to sleep through this next day.  I’m not up for a battle; I’m not ready to see another face.  I will encase myself within my demons, and let them whittle away at my soul.  My inspiration for words slowly leaves, Farewell.