Riddle Me This….?

Can I ask a question? Am I freak? Am I freak to do what I do? Do I need to know if I am? Will a label do me more harm than good? Why do I need to feel that first instance of pain to know that there’s light at the end? Why does that first trickle of blood make me feel better? Why do I care? Why am I still hurting? Why can’t I pinpoint this ache that lingers within me? Why can’t they make me better? Why can’t I help myself? Why does a kitchen knife understand more than people? Why can the stars hear me cry when no-one else can? How can those I’ve never met touch me? Why do I matter? Why don’t I matter? What do I mean? Who am I? What am I? Why do I feel like this? When will it all end?