I tell myself that I am not to blame,
That the Dark Lord had given me no choice;
Yet every night my pain is the same,
And ev'ry night I still hear Lily's voice;

She repeats those words said just days before,
"We are trusting you not to rat us out."
No longer funny, they gnaw at my core;
Words soon replaced by her screams and his shouts.

"I failed you, friends," I confess to the sky
I draw my wand, point it at my own chest
But I cannot find the courage to try;
Still I pray I may find eternal rest.

Once I was a boy, both timid and fat;
Grown up to be not a man, but a rat.