I cannot decide how I feel
And I know this poem is going to **** more than listening to bad singing
But I just need to word *****
Life is a complete **** show
And yet we keep trying to improve it
Trying to improve ourselves
Fixing the mistakes of the past,
Or making them worse.

At the end of the day,
There are still people that are sad
There are still people that are mad
There are still people that hate
There are still people that make me wonder what could make them see the world the way they do.

But yet, I love living
Because I love myself
And I guess what I am trying to say is...

I wish someone would love me back.

My brain is knotted to my head with ties I should unravel.
I guess it doesn’t do me any good to sit and think.
And in my dreams I’m in a boat and then the current makes it sink
and blood just pours into the ocean til I’m left with feeling weak
and these thoughts burn inside me deeper than the comfort that I seek.
It’s all a waste
and what’s the point if I would let my findings go

if it meant I’d see the outline of my sharp and brittle bones?
Clinging to every song I hear to search it for a kind of purpose
I could try to find a God to show me all this isn’t worthless.
Perhaps there was a word you said that made me keep on crawling
past the people who have told me I should focus on my calling.
Or perhaps it was a word you never stuck around to say
and I am left here on my own to try to seize these ******* days.
My mind is a machine creating thoughts that are contrived
and they can see the insincerity that’s dripping from my eyes.