all i can do is write,
words that tell how ugly truth can be,
or so i choose to think;
all i was asking for,
was another soul to see;
but i guess it was otherwise;
now it's clear,
it was never friendship,
but rather obligation;
pity that eats from the inside,
a guilt that never tires;
a guilt that you don't deserve;
it's hopeless praying to the stars:
they might shine even if they're dead,
how would it reach the heavens?
is it my selfish cause,
to ask for one broken to stay,
even if it cries to leave?
is it my cowardice,
to think that there's no way;
but the easy way out?
maybe the angels are deaf,
or better yet, blind;
unless the light shines, it's nonexistent;
how i wish the ground would swallow me,
but i'm guessing,
even the ground would gag on my choices.
I do hope I get killed already