The nails on my coffin were not driven by enemies, but by the friends I thought were mine. Not by creeping illness, but by the loss of love I thought was mine. Not by the hands of strangers, but by the people I thought I was loved by Not by the pride in my heart But by the kindness that I showed Not by the wounds on my body But by the scars on my soul No tears were shed — only the earth wept, only my mother wept.