It is not we
Who wield the knife
It is not words
To strike at your heart
But is your own self pity
Woven deep in your soul
Held tightly by excuses

It is not the glass
You peer through
It is not the world behind
But is your eyes
That twist the beauty to rust
Commanded by your will.

It is not the shame
You fear so greatly
Nor the friends
You care to lose
But is your own dented ego
So low and small
That stands to be in vain.

It is only you
To put out the light
It is only you
That speaks your vioce
But it is we
Who can only watch
As you slowly waste away
To the nothing
You are, inside.