Help Me, I'm Dying

You lied.
If I didn't hate myself before, I do now.
But for the things that you just said to me,
I think I might hate you.
Because you don't understand.
You like to think you do.
And you like to think that everyone has
Skin as thick as steel, like you.
But I'm just a girl.
And you forget that I have feelings.
And this poem sucks
But it all needs to be said.
Or I'll never be able to get you out of my head.
And then you would feel sorry for me.
If you're going to spare a thought for me,
I'd rather it was hate than pity.
I don't need pity.
From you least of all.
I trusted you.
You lied.