Maybe I'll exhibit an ounce of satisfaction
When I see your heart fumbling on the floor,
On account of all the pain and sorrow it caused

No
Your burden doesn't turn you into a Saint
And no
You will not cloak yourself on hope
You'll not shade the bitterness that comes with hate
you will long for and sail on dejection,
Always looking on dreadfulness of your past tales

Dry your eyes
am talking to you
As days bleed into years
you'll soak up a great deal of agony
your life will be on a constant loop of despair

And then
Only then
You will remember this poem