I am fading away,
Floating on the winds of time.
I am not me, no way
for me to say I am who I twas'.
I wish my story was over,
then I would not have to pretend,
that I was always happy,
I am too ******* tired to end.
And people think this is
a downward spiral,
but they don't know, this
is one facet of who I am.

**** YOU, YOU THINK
THAT BECAUSE YOUR OLDER,
THAT YOU CAN DO ANYTHING?
ALL YOU ARE IS A WASTE OF INK.
INK ON A PAGE THAT DON'T MATTER.
FOR SO LONG AS I BREATHE I WON'T
CARE ABOUT WHAT YOU SAY.
**** IT, I AM THE MAD HATTER.
AND ALL I HAVE IS THE RAGE
AGAINST THE DYING OF THE LIGHT,
AGAINST THE FADING OF DREAMS,
AGAINST EVERY SINGLE CAGE.
AND NOBODY EVEN ******* CARES
BECAUSE WE ARE ALL ****** UP,
BECAUSE WE ARE ALL MONSTERS,
ALL YOU'RE DOING IS WASTING AIR.

I feel the tears slip,
I feel the tension grip,
and the I know it.
The knife will slip,
as the tears do fall
down my face and
hit the ground, I
realize that this all
is for nothing but pain.
It hurts, this life,
like the beautiful touch
of the knife as it gains
purchase in my skin.
Another starburst
of pain as the blood flows.
Soon these people will
have to call a hearse.