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When does it end,
The madness, the pain, the sorrow.
Should I keep feeling sorry for myself,
the pity inclosing my womb.

The trust betrayed,
and I have only myself to blame.
Am I sorry, am I done,
or does it start all over again.

How many times have I cried out your name,
yet you walked, not slowly, but fast away.
Do I crowd you, your future,
or to you, is it just another game.

I'm left standing, terrified,
in walls full of glass.
Too afraid to make a sound, too afraid to break free,
yet afraid if I stay, my life won't last.

Words I can't tell you,
i'm sorry is all I speak.
As I fall into doomsville,
shallow, and putrid, and weak.