No Choice

No Choice




Look at my hands

Do you see them?

Do you see?



They’ve been stained with blood

Burned with passion

Slashed with hate



The cuts, the burns, the scars

These scars

My misery

Shows in these scars



I bet if I cut my finger

Even just a prick

The blood would not be red

Nor black

Nor blue

But nothing



I have nothing left to bleed

Because you gave me no choice

But to die