The Murder of my Suicide

The pain of suicide eased by the knowledge no one will care.

The sting of a thousand deaths,
Dig into my heart.
My soul is engulfed by a flame of hatred,
And my skin is dripping off.
It creates a puddle at my feet,
As my exsistence melts away.
The rejection from the ones I loved,
Takes away the pain.
This is the end of me,
But no one will really care.
Nothing left but a pile of bones,
And a couple strings of hair.