Sorry

I’m sorry for the way you forgot your worth.

I’m sorry for all the pain I wouldn’t cure.

I’m sorry I always told you “it could be worse.”

And I’m sorry that you’ll never say these words.

You had me walking on a tight rope.

And just when I learned to balance,

you cut it in half, with such purposeful malice.

You had me wear a tight rope.

And when I learned to breathe more and panic less,

you tied it tighter around my neck.

Either way, you wanted me to fall.

Fall, fall down to my death.

I’m sorry for all the weight you gained.

I’m sorry that mentally wasn’t enough; I needed a physical change.

I’m sorry I felt you were beneath me, and chose to show you all the ways.

And I’m sorry you couldn’t say sorry, even on a good day.

You had me driving a rigged car.

And when I learned how to stay on track,

you shut off my brakes and revved the gas.

You had me sitting in a rigged car.

And just when I started to appreciate the views,

you’d swerve and take them away too.

Either way, you wanted me to crash.

Crash; rid of me at last.

I’m sorry for all the nights I left you to cry.

I’m sorry I chose to drink instead, and make you wonder why.

I’m sorry I deleted all the messages, and continued to lie.

And I’m sorry you’ll never feel sorry, no matter how hard you “try.”

The cruelest part is that I’m free from you now,

but with every day that passes, I have to fight to heal.

You left me so damaged, and so broken,

that now I beg to question if a person’s kindness is real.

Had I known I was on death row,

I would’ve at least asked for a last meal.