What Was Locked Up...

Okay,this doesn't rhym because I wrote it to look like a suicide note.So,bear with me.
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What was it that hurt?
Every damned word thrown at me,
thrown like a kickball.
I just can't do this.
Today I somberly ask myself,
'Will it matter to anyone at all?"
and the answer I gave was chilling,
because it was but a simple,"no."

Who can I blame?
No one.
I can resent though
and I resent them all...
My mother,for her critique,
my brother,for the pain,
my father,for reality.

Who can I thank?
Them all.
Morbid isn't it to thank....
My mother,for the critique,
my brother,for the pain,
my father,for reality?

Afterall what's love but a double edged sword?
What's my life but a waste of air?
What's pain but a sweet escape?
What's friendship but bitterness?
I suppose this is too gloomy
but welcome to my life.
You wanted the reality of me...
well,here you have it.

This is for all the shit I've been dealt
and I'm sick.
Sick in body or mind?
I don't know.
Just play me another deep song
and stand back from the mess.
God forbig the blood touches you.
Suicide isn't for you
but while I cut I can dream.
I'm crying,I'm afraid...
but it doesn't matter,
I think the pills are working....