Unfinished, untitled poetry #2 from an "unknown" poet

The feeling of death when I discovered I had lost myself
1st degree murder of me done by me
Premeditated?
Perhaps, I had focused so much on the blows thrown at me I forgot to breathe.
Focused too much on the shock of being kicked while I was down, I forgot to defend myself from the seemingly inevitable wounds and bruises that would result.
Became too tired even fight back. Tired from the start because I previously hadn't conditioned myself for hate.
Did myself in. kicked myself in the face, punched my own organs in, blackened my own eye, broke my own limbs simply by allowing others to have power and influence over the image I stared at in the mirror, over the worries in my life.
Killed myself with some type of mental disorder. Paranoia one of the symptoms always worried who thinks what of me who said that. Agitated constantly.
News reports read so called black woman killed. Didn’t even know my blackness I was so far gone from the foot of me that I had established myself to be. I could not tell you any for sure fact about who I was. Had took so many wordy blows to the head my memory was shot. Checked into a hospital doctors, experienced doctors gave me their opinions.