I am done.

Hateful words - a fiery spew.

Lost love - the loneliest hue.

The spiteful dragon - if only she knew,

The torturous death she put me through.

. . .

Would she care? Would she cry?

If she saw my tears, would she know why?

If our eyes met, and I mine grew shy,

Would the guilt within her make her die?

. . .

Will the wrongs I've faced be made right?

Or will she return to rekindle the fight?

She held on to her pride with a grip so tight,

That I had to choose between fight or flight.

. . .

And so I flew, in the opposite way,

My pain was too great - I couldn't stay.

The love of my life said it would be okay,

If I took the blame to keep her temper at bay.

. . .

But I would not be used to ease her guilt.

It would only feed the monster they built.

The family bowed to her, expecting me to tilt,

And when I refused, it was my blood that spilt.

. . .

I won't be used; I won't be tried.

I won't be blamed for the love that died.

I never yelled; I never lied.

I went through hell, and at the end I cried.

. . .

Will he come back for me?

Not that I can see.

Ours is the love story that will never be.

. . .

Too many lies; too much doubt.

Too many words to angrily shout.

. . .

I am tired; I am worn.

. . .

I am done...

I am done...

I am done.