Torture

When did it become okay,
For you to torture me in this way?
I do not remember giving permission,
Or my word to keep quiet,
Not that I would be listened to anyway,

Some days you won't say a thing to me,
Is your silence because of me?
I did nothing to harm you,
I couldn't,
But your actions are quite confusing,

Other days are not so sweet,
Your bellowing is loud enough to knock one off their feet,
What is it this time?
Is it my appearance that I so carefully,
Constructed to please you?

It doesn't matter, you see,
For one day that composure you pretend to have,
Will break down before me,
And I will suffer the brunt of your rage,

You could kill me so effortlessly,
I'm a weakling, my sweet,
Yet you daren't, and instead,
At the force of your own demons,
You crumple at my feet.