What Is Left

Why do you deny my love,
acting like a soul possessed?
And why resurrect old pains,
time had long ago repressed?

You can't relate to pity,
for bullies despise the weak.
And it feels good exploiting
those who turn the other cheek.

I see someone that's afraid,
using drugs to numb the pain.
A loser in the game of life,
treating winners with disdain.

Shame has no meaning in hell,
for all that you do feels right.
Yet deep inside what is left,
when part of you dies each night?

You stand ready to attack,
striking out day after day.
And uttering threats of death,
you push those that care away.