Empty house

My life,
Was a masquerade,
Until I closed the curtain,
For good.

All I wanted to say,
Was I was sorry.
I was sorry about what I last said,
Back in seventh grade.
Those malditas palabras.
"I don't care."
(the falling of the lead)

Little did I know,
Those were the last words I'd say to you.
Little did I know,
You just wanted to be loved.
Little did you know,
You would be my last thought.
(one last twist)

As the knife presses closer each night,
As the gun clicks easier each time,
As the pills rattle even more luring each cry,
I can only think of one thing,
"What is wrong with me?"

After each cut,
After each cowardice,
After each waking,
I find myself...
Dead.
Nothing but a carcass for a puppet.

After all of this,
I am still able to hide it all.
Not a soul knows what I really think,
Not a soul knows what I really do.
The facade keeps me from talking.
A mask with no mouth.
(yet still able to preform)

Then again,
Who actually gives two damns?
My finale is close,
Yet the hose is empty.
I should just exit and clear stage.
No more acts or scenes,
And this was the last requiem.