This anger suffocates my right to feel
Anything other than betrayal
This lack of emotional attatchment
Is leaving this disease untreatably fatal
Screaming doesn't drown them out
Sore throats aren't easily excused
I'd tell the truth in 8 simple words
"Its not my fault that I got used"
I didn't say those words to myself
And I didn't repeat them 14 times
I took their heartless comments
Then sat down to release in rhymes
I could close my ears and not listen
But I'd still fathom what they've said
How they think it's for assiduity
That I'm not really "hanging by a thread"
The voices vociferate back at me
I write down they words that they protest
I engrave them on my feeble figure
Only to see them when I'm undressed
Stained black clothes repeat the phrases
Only seen by my own two eyes
Representing everything that is something
All the nothing's that I despise.
