You treated our world like a mythical story.
To you it was always nugatory.
You were nothing short of predatory.
So you could condemn my life to purgatory.
Alone I sit in this cold darkened room.
The dead soul that was once your groom.
You’ve plunged me into a world of gloom.
Even the rats wont visit this stinking tomb.
Fingernails grate down the cold stone wall.
Screams of pain, on deaf ears they fall.
Blood dripping down like unreadable scrawl.
You’ve locked me inside my own death hall.
Arm outstretched, right hand balled into a fist.
My life, my pain, my feelings, always dismissed.
My cracked and bloody lips you’ve never kissed.
Yet still you refuse to let me slash my wrist.
My every word you must misquote.
Doesn’t matter whether it’s spoken or wrote.
All you could ever do was stand there and gloat.
If you could let me go YOU’D cut my throat.
Of my own life I’ll soon be an absentee.
You’ve chosen to make me an amputee.
But you still remain my biggest devotee.
And you can’t stand the thought of setting me free.
Your life requires my every breath.
It’s like an addiction to crystal meth.
A tragedy, you are just like Mcbeth.
Why wont you let me have my death?
At ripping me apart you’ve worked time and a half.
Dishing out the abuse, the world can hear you laugh.
My death you have made sure to choreograph.
These words will be my final epitaph.
With no remorse you broke my backbone.
My death you were happy to condone.
When they’ve finally etched my name in stone.
Will you have even tried to atone?