And so I released my grip
over that final strip
of hope I had
for our relationship,
for too long
I had been through hardship.

I set myself free
from all the agony
guilt and woe,
I was sick and tired
of the freedom I had to forego.

It no longer hurt
no stab wound or a scar
no sense of guilt to return
even as you gaze from afar.

It's not my fault
I told myself;
I should forget and move on
from all the negative thoughts
I dwelled upon.

It was never meant to be
you and me.
There was never an us,
just you, yourself, can't you see?

In the end sacrifices I made
still never could placate
the person you were to me
whenever I tried to be nice:
all I got
was a backstab with a knife.