Suicide

It hurts too much to form words,
Set in your intricate web of lies,

Must you kill what you can?
I would die happily today,
After all I am only alive by accident,

As a child I was loved,
I had the eyes of a little god,
Now I cannot run,
For I am rooted here,

My soul, the cold dead centre,
My body hollow all around,
People will try to help,
But this is between myself and myself,

Let him find no love or solice,
And let his deceitful heart die in my hand.