Bad days are like small doses of pain,
to show what dying tastes like.
When I say bad day,
I mean more bad than the usual bad way.

I made some bad choices,
used all the wrong voices.
Said all the wrong words,
acted like a total ****.

When I do these things,
I hate myself.  I don't feel better.
Sometimes it lasts a few days,
sometimes weeks.

Depression really doesn't help me,
it makes me feel not-so-happy.
Then I get punished for the things I do,
when I get depressed. But, you.

You don't care,
You don't believe me,
What does it matter?
It's not like I can feel happy.

oh wait-


Yes it's possible,
I can do some things,
so I feel less awful.
But, wait—that's right—you won't let me.

Roses are red,
violets are blue,
but according to what I learned in science about how light works...
That's not really true...
You see, when light hits something,
say a leaf, it looks green.
But in reality it's every colour but the one you see.

Roses are green
Violets are green
The amount of vivid colours in this garden made me throw up.

Roses are red,
violets are red,
I lit my garden on fire.

Roses are blue
Violets are red
What are colours again?

Roses are red,
violets are red,
someone killed my cat.

Roses are yellow,
Violets are purple,
I think I might be colourblind.

Roses are grey,
Violets are also grey,
woof.

Roses are dead.
Violets are dead.
I'm a horrible gardener...

My name is Dave,
Roses are Paul,
It hurt my head,
when I walked into that wall.

I love you.
You heal me.
You are the sun that wakes me,
You are the voice that comforts me,
You are the best person ever!

I hate you.
You hurt me.
You are the hand that hit me,
You are the voice that frightens me,
You are the worst person ever!

I love you.
You are a shoulder to cry on,
You are the hug I need,
You're okay, I guess...

I hate you.
You are the reason I cry!
You are the one that hurts me,
I'm afraid to be around you.

I miss you.
I miss the person you used to be,
before the pain,
before the tears,
before you hurt me.