I feel like I'm part of the resistance

I wish instead that I were a part of the release,
I want you to die so that I can be free.

I hadn't understood before what it meant to be happy,
now I do.
When they said that one couldn't exist without the other suffering an unjust truth,
I didn't think you meant me.
But now that I'm more understanding,
can't you set me free?
Give me the key,
and I will bury you.
Give me a candle and I will put you back in the darkness where you belong.

THIS, is suffering.
My screaming at the top of my lungs and you not hearing,
because you're too busy screaming your own obscenities in the middle of the night.
THIS is my guilt,
where I have to regret each morning not having killed you the night before.
And oh,
how easy it would have been.
To slit your throat or your wrist,
To slip a pill in your drink,
To watch you waste away and die right before my eyes.
I would kill you,
if not for the miserable defeat I would endure afterward,
at the hands of a masked swordsman;
unknowingly walking to my own death,
only to be freed for my good deed on the world.

This is a horrible mess,
and I wish I wasn't a part of it.