I write some pretty messed up stuff... Be aware please. |
As it turns out, Life isn't turing out. I was born into this world for a reason. All I see is death. I stand in the dark, This is where I am left. This is all that is left of me. I know its not neat, And I am not pretty, But I don't care. I pretty much don't care. I stand in the dark, I am waisting away. Slowly, I feal the pain. Eating at me, As if I am no one. When will this end? Will someone finally care? Will this face become a beuty, Of what it used to be? Don't kill me, Please, lord of Dark, I wish to live, Survive another long day. Or... Maybe not. Maybe this is what I want. I don't know anymore, I don't know anything. As I wake up, in the darkness, I feel like something is creaping up. To tear me up, Making this room filled with red, Blood, a beutiful creation. I live long, 14 years is long enough. Should I do what I want to do? Is it to early for me? Maybe so. I am young. Then again, maybe not. Maybe, as I stand in the dark, I feel okay with the thought of perishing. I am alone, And that is okay. I have no love, And that is okay. Maybe I'll end up six feet under, But that'll all be okay. |