so you did it,
what i could not do,
what i could not achieve,
and you did it too easy,
like snapping a twig whereas i have a branch,
i have nothing now;
and you say your sorry when your are not,
You wanted this,
this blade,
this bullet,
That pierced my heart,
and my brain,
to leave me with just hate and your'e petty guilt,
no oxygen in which to breath,
thanks for death,
and loss of love,
while you snigger and laugh,
i cry and fall,
like a lamb to the slaughter,
once defied twice hated;
no guilt,
just a bullet wound in my heart.
