End Credits

I know I'm not entitled to grieve,
I'm not meant to be in sorrow.
Still everything you say I believe,
assuming somewhere there is still a tomorrow.
I know I should be happy for you that you live,
should be glad you don't spend your nights alone.
Somehow that makes my own loneliness worse,
knowing I'm unwillingly on my own.
I was the one to pull out and end it,
I was the one that deserves no credit,
I know all that and I know it well.
Could you leave it at this and make me survive?
Could you let me be to make my own knives?
I can kill myself on my own behalf,
if just you let me be.
It's that you still appear to care for me
that keeps me living,
at unease.
I know I'm not entitled to grieve,
but I didn't set the rules for sorrow.
So everything you say I'll believe,
assuming that somewhere there's still a tomorrow.
A future on lease,
something I only borrowed...