I am done.

If I was crying you wouldn't  care.
You'd just sit there and stare.

If I slit my throat.
None would take note.

If I disappeared.
It's my cries for help you wouldn't hear.

You say you care.
You truly don't.
To you, I'm a charity case.
It's my face.
My face in which hate.

I know I may not show it.
But eventually you'll know it.
I hate you.
None of you are true.
I'm alone.

I watch you with the others.
You just push me over.
Like I was nothing.
Well, I guess that's what I am.
Nothing.

Crying.
Breaking.
Losing.
I have nothing.
No one.
I am done.