A Look Inside My Head

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So this is my most recent poem, and just to let you know. These are posted in no specific order.

Why do I feel the need to collapse
To become oblivion
The urge to starve my body of what it needs
To harm myself to forget every thought that drowns me
Why do I crave to see the blood that pumps through my veins
I should be happy, as all of the jigsaw pieces seemingly connect
I continue to put up a facade,
But each time it shatters, the more damage done
Am I really that broken?
I have no reason to be, maybe it is true
I am my worst enemy
I am not satisfied, and each and every second, I feel this hatred claw at me from inside out
It's only a matter of time before I break
Because honey, this thread is close to snapping
Those strings that pull me along, are one second away from me collapsing
My puppeteer that is my mask, will soon have no more work to do
As this puppet is cracked, and used
I suppose it's time for a new toy
I don't know who my puppeteer is,
But maybe, just maybe, it's this dark, looming fog that hangs onto me at every moment
That sometimes, I can lock away into a chest and hope it won't find its way out,
But it always slips through the keyhole,
This, this, thing, a chaotic force that's omniscient to my every thought, every emotion, every fear
It feeds off of my emotions, kissing me, with such intimacy until I am a hollow, cold, corpse
And no, each brush of this forces fingertips, caress of its lips, are not of pleasure. With every act, every whisper it blows against my ear,
It destroys me, another wall, another layer it collapses
And soon, I will be nothing but rubble
A once bountiful being, a building of lights, inspiration, and wonderful prosperity,
Will be a reminder of disappointment, and death.
Maybe, I've been broken all along,
I've always felt this raw tsunami of pain, and with each passing year it chips away at my fading paint that line the walls of my being
Maybe it started when my 'father' tried taking me to a crack house when I was three,
Maybe it was the time I watched my mother being domestically abused,
Maybe when I left everything, everyone, I've ever known or loved behind
Because maybe, just maybe, I've been battered, bruised, and tainted for much longer than I've ever known.
Some people just can't deal with the pain, because honey, there's more where that came from
The only time I've ever truly felt numb, or anything for the matter, was when I read words typed from a page of a heartfelt novel. Written my own words of desperation and hunger. Or even played a classical tune on a treble clef instrument.
People tell you, that once you find an outlet, that everything thing will be better,
But they never told you what would happen when the safe haven you've been given is invaded, corrupted, when the feeling of dread slowly creeps in.
They never tell you what happens when you can't get away, when no amount of running will save you.
Because what happens, when there is no escape?