Wounded

I'm sitting here thinking about what
you've done,
As I hold this
gun.
This is all your fault,
For the pain you caused me that you don't care
about.
I wish you could see,
The hurt and torture you caused me.
We were suppose to be together,
But me dying seems better.
I'm tired of the tears that fall from my eyes when I cry,
All I want to do is die.

It wouldn't be hard dying, because my soul already has,
I wish we could be happy like we were in the
past.
I hate looking in the mirror
I hate what I see,
Because the person looking back is me.
My eyes look so cold,
And I'm still trying to hold
On to you.

The only escape I had to get away from you were the slashes on my skin,
Where I drove a knife in.
The blood that fell to the floor,
helped me live a little bit more.

But though wounds are much older,
and soon my life will be over.
And I won't have to cry,
because I'll be able to die.

This was so good that it gave me chills. You go girl.