Those of repetition

A poem on thoughts I had when I was very stressed. It's not very good, so I'm not going to ask for criticism, though your free to do so. This poem is more oriented for teens that can relate and such.

Those of repetition

I don't want to hear it.
The cry of those that repeat.
They keep saying it over and over and over...

It tears through me like razors.
I know
I know!
So just shut up!
Why do you keep saying the things I already know? Do you think I'm incapable, weak, no...
You think I don't understand, when really I know first hand.

How it feels, looks, sounds, smells, it's all fresh in my mind.
Maybe I just don't want to know...
Maybe, just maybe, I don't actually know.
Maybe I fed myself lies...
I'm so weak..

Do I even have a right to this suffering?
Surely there's someone out there who has it worse...
But what does that person do?
The one that's suffering the most...

What if that's me?
Then I have a right to suffer, and the right to end it.

But do I want to end it? People will ask.
But I don't want to be one of repetition.

I don't want to be like them...

But then I have too.

And I realize, that they are me.

In the mind.
In the body.
In the heart.
An aching, aching heart....