One Small Favour Poem by Matt Bennett

I burn the pages of my story,
I watch the ink fade from existence.
False accounts of fictional glory,
And closeness fades into distance.

My being disgraces me,
I do not deserve the skin I wear.
I beg to be set free,
Through my disgusting body I tear.

Breathless gasps fade into nothing,
Tears stain the floor no more.
I have never been loving,
Through my arteries I have torn.

Why must I face the world alone?
Am I comparable only to dust?
Have I no backbone?
Am I machine left only to rust?

I am a servant to my misery,
It owns me and I do not waver.
No-one must know of my history,
This I ask of you, is one small favour.