This poem does not possess a title

I wish that they could see me
the ones that told me why
My life is of importance-
that ahead my future lie

My purpose was once clear-
it was my chosen trail
These detours i have taken
have left me weak and pale

These detours left me here-
With my beliefs have gone my will
the will to grow and prosper-
is now the drive to kill

I wish that they could see me
and the pain I keep beneath-
this pain is everlasting-
this pain is never brief

this pain is not of logic-
this pain is not of truth
this pain is a mind discursive-
this pain has no given proof

I slow my thoughts- now racing
I take the blood-stained knife
it pierces tender skin-
with debauchery and strife

My tears are now my weapons-
Stinging flesh, now harmed
the cuts and scrapes of mortal skin-
With pity I am armed

With pity i shall end their lives-
with pity they will leave
with pity I will finish my task
with pity , i believe

that if their life's worth living,
why would they hurt me now?
why would they tempt their tortured fate-
why would this they allow?

I leave the deaths to follow-
and give some conscious thought
for them to ponder death
and the life they sought

And now I lay beside them
and bring to blade to chest
I utter one last phrase-
and put my mind at rest.