Nope
I see here, feeling worse than you know how to feel,
And yet still I imagine you think you know
How it feels.
I'm sad and I'm lonely, its dark and its cold.
There’s nobody here, only me,
A desperate poet in a desperate hour,
Pinning his thoughts down for any to see.
Cos it’s so much easier to tell a blank page,
Than telling a friend you want to die,
With no excuse but a miserable life,
Terminal disease wanted, no word of a lie.
For the dying have the right to feel how I do,
They’ve got an excuse to leave,
For me I can’t take it; no reason to live,
And not enough courage to make myself bleed.
This poems depressing, but I feel I;m expressing
The way it all sounds in my head.
Troubled and diseased, ill at no fucking ease
No courage to tell to a friend instead.
No courage to say what I know that I should,
To walk through the dreams that I thought that I could
To say it out loud and declare I was proud
To broadcast my love to one… aloud.
It wasn’t to be, because I'm shy and slow,
and I know they’ll find an excuse to say no.
When you find yourself ready, the timing goes wrong.
Then it seemed a bad idea all along.
But this is the sixth time its all gone to pot,
She loves me, she loves me, She fucking loves me not.
And now my eyes stream, my nose runs with snot,
Its timing so crucial it can’t be forgot.
I'm falling and falling to a world I don’t like to show
To a path that will leave me, six feet below,
And a nice patch of grass above me will grow
I'm falling from a world that I don’t even know.
I see here, feeling worse than you know how to feel,
And yet still I imagine you think you know
How it feels.
Lonelyness is madness, and it’s my only friend,
I sleep and eat and plan, really wicked means to end.
No longer to the good thoughts my mind likes to bend,
A negative spiral down, my mood seems to descend.
