What did I do?

When I was just a child,

my father caused my pain.

My number of injuries piled,

My screams to stop all in vain.

I hated the day I was born,

My father told me I don't deserve life.

Nobody at my funeral would sincerely mourn,

I should just hurry up and pick up the knife.

I don't know what I did to deserve this,

I don't know how to make it end.

But my eternal bliss,

Would be to make my neck bend.