I wish I could say I am happy.
But even when I am surrounded by people I am alone.
I am always sad.
I think too much to have any ease in my life.
Even when I see the blood drip from my body, I am left to think.
I know so much.
I wish too much.
I hope for things that will never happen.
I’m scared and I can’t tell you why.
I feel it.
Deep down.
I know it’s there trying to come out.
My hate.
My lust.
My dreams that I thought I lost.
My mom, my dad.
I am so screwed up.
I am so alone.
They say I’m strong.
People can be so wrong.
No one will know.
No one will see how’ve I grown.
My dreams of my blood on the walls.
My dreams of my life dashing through the halls.
The one where I keep falling, deeper, and deeper.
No end.
I need something to grab.
A life that I can call mine.
I need something more than time.
Something more than a shard of glass.
Something more than the blood on my skin.
I need something more than my cries through my sick grin.
I need something more than my lonely sobs.
Something more than just me.
I want to be what I need to be.
I just can’t get it right.
If I left yesterday, no one would see not even tomorrow.
Too bad I can’t end the sorrow.