dead and dying

When you don’t have anymore wine and you don’t feel fine. It’s time to step in line. But I just want to die. Because I’m all alone. And feel like stone. Chain smoking cigarettes full of regrets. If only I could find some quicker way to die. I’d feel fine. Divine. At least in my mind,


I wish I could feel bored. But I just feel abhorred. By myself and everything else. Spitting on the floor. I wish my mind would stop. But my mind is an empty wasteland full of thoughts. I wish would not. When you want to die, but somehow still stay alive. I’m gone. Moving along.


I miss everything. Nothing makes sense. I feel like so much less. Chain smoke cigarettes like it doesn’t ever make sense. It never has. Senseless defenses.


When I have to wake up in four hours. But I am waiting for a reply. That will never come. Because I always feel like you took your life. That’s not fair. I am in despair.


Why can’t I feel anything for anyone other than you?


I’m trying to be strong. But I can’t move on. All along. I’ve tried so hard but only failed. I cannot prevail. I have failed.


Myself more than anyone else. I want to die. Inside. And out. I want out.

When I shove my words into you. But you never believe it to be true. I am through. I can’t stand this abuse and torture anymore. I’m on the floor.

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