A Crying Recovery

A crying recovery, is what I am. A bleeding archangel, in need of a hand.
Torn in my sorrows, I wish for something more. Killing my tomorrow, as I lay dead on the floor.
Blood spills from my eyes, my wrists and my veins. My knife stabbed so purely, securing my pains.
The note left beside me, offering nothing but guilt. This heart inside of me: nothing but filth.
Look into my dead eyes, and finally you will see. The person I became, I was not meant to be.
Now look into the mirror, and cry real tears. Admit to yourself, that you killed me for all these years.
Pick up my limp body, and drag me away. Keep telling yourself, 'there's nothing more to say'.
As you walk away, like nothing is wrong, There's a glint in your eye. My destruction, is what you wanted, all along.