The Martyr

I guess it makes sense
That the girl who cried over nothing
Should die over nothing.
  
I guess it's your happiness
Over mine.  
I'll forgive and forget
Even when I am burning on the pyre.

How long must I forfeit?
How long must I deny myself

How long must I take the blame
And pay the price?

How long must I fight back tears
And bite my tongue;

How many more sleepless nights
of fevered prayer
And stifled shrieks,

How long must I look you in the eye
Smile,
Laugh,
And lie?

Goodnight, my love.

I am so very tired.

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