Pity

Every moment,
In every second,
Never left me anything but pain and deception,
Now they look at me with pity,
For to them that’s all I am for,
Pity, I say, that life turned out this way,
Pity that your hits are tattooed under my clothes,
While my blood is spilling on yours,
Pity that I can’t sand up without being woozy,
Pity that I am used to this abuse,
Pity is a word they misuse,
Giving me sad eyes when I am the who should be,
They stand as if they are not to blame,
For the broken me that remains,
For the blackness of death that is left after the flames,
But all I have to say disagrees,
With anything, everything that they told me,
If I am not at fault then who else would rise to responsibility?
You are the ones slashing my life,
Yet calling yourselves innocent,
For you do not enter the battle with knives,
Pity then, is the name,
For the villain who dares play this game,
The one who uses ruses and bruises to make me break,
I turn to you and see you all blind,
The fault for throwing me on the stake,
Is all yours, how could it not be?
When you refuse to give and only take?
Life was the prize but I have nothing to lose,
And when they find me black and blue,
With a red threaded noose,
They’ll look at me with sad eyes,
Saying, “Curse who is to blame!
For this death was murder!
He was so young, so innocent!”
And before they leave they’ll turn to whisper,
“Oh dear, what a pity.”