Their hatred sharper
Than the blade of my knife
Yet still they chose to ignore
The fact that they’re destroying me,
Situating me into oblivion.

Yet they expect forgiveness,
Whilst they reminisce
In the tragedy
They created for me.

I try to erase the events,
But blood is not lead
So I continue to scribe
Bold statements of pain,
Yet still they ignore.

They ignore
But do they adore
Seeing me shatter,
Breaking me into desolation
With no hope of revaluation,
No longer - can I be saved.

No need for a burial
Because I already weep
A watery grave.
But I ask,
Who is the weaker man?
Is it he who dies by his own hand,
Or they who abolish
The little hope that man had left.