Numb To Your Antics

I wish you could see,

How your words,

Scratch my hope,

Leaving indents like claw marks,

Stealing the little glimmers I try to collect.

I hope you know,

It's starting to hurt less and less,

With every passing day,

I'm becoming numb to your antics,

And I'm not sure if it's a good thing or a bad thing.

But, what's mine will always be mine,

I'll find more glimmers,

And hide them far away from you.

But, I'm scared that,

The next antic of yours will be,

Because you couldn't find them.

How's that my fault?

Why am I the bad person then?