I loved for 8 years

Nine months and I have what others call closure, but somewhere deep inside I can feel it’s not over.
You got a slap on the wrist and two years probation, but I’m the one who gets to live with it, till I get my own cremation.

I should be happy after I heard what you are pleading but it’s been so long I can’t say I even know that feeling. Maybe this is how it is till the day that I die I fake a smile everyday while I’m living a lie.

Why do I feel so bad that I got you in shit? I’m the victim you’re the suspect but my thighs are still slit. Sometimes late at night as I lie in my bed I hope you’re getting all the help of whatever is wrong in your head.

you left me in pain and you left me in tears I should hate your fucking guts but I loved you for eight years.