Walking Away

He gets mad at me for telling him what he's thinking.
For letting him know that I'm aware of his worries,
And what he thinks are imperfections.
He gets mad at me for frowning when he's sad, and smiling
or letting him know it's fine to be upset with a long gone ex-member of the family
He gets mad at me for knowing him,
Before he tells me about himself,
for knowing when to hold his hand, and when to stay away.
He smiles when I get hurt,
and often calls me names,
He bites me, until pain numbs me.
I'm going to walk away,
even though I don't deserve better,
because maybe someone will believe the opposite.