Broken Effed up me

I wake up wanting to die.
Grieving for a future that won’t come.  
Grieving for a past that can’t be changed.
All that is left is me. Broken, defective, fucked up, me.
Splintered and fractured I am never really alone.
One voice is buried under a physical expression of pain, anger and fear
The other voice keeps fighting and hoping.
No bets on which one will win. Probably the one most afraid of dying.
If she does win, it means a slow painful death. A shameful humiliating death.
Instead of a fast, no looking back, balls to the wall kind of death.
Life and Death both done the same. Painful and Humiliating. That is no way to live or to die.