I never thought I'd make it this far.
The suffocating grip of disappointment has always been on my shoulders ever since I drew my first breath.
A constant reminder that I will never be anything worthy of life.

I'd always dreamed about hanging on the moon, the string of stars as my noose, and the stillness of space as my final breath.
A recreation of something I've always thought of.

In a few days, I'd bring death to this worthless body.
A husk and an illusion of my past and present self.
I'm writing this to bring peace to my own human mind.
The final thoughts of a worthless life.

I want a kind person to see me struggling
Not by me showing them
But by simply observing
And care
And ask if they can help
Sometimes they can
And sometimes they can't
But that itself
Is enough for my heart

maintain your innocence for as long as you possibly can

the world is a horrible place

it's somehow poetic.
how the world burns with passion
amidst the ******* that everyone does.
streaks of gold of all the fuckery people consume through their everyday lives.

some find good in bad people, an altruistic ruse of a *******.
some find bad in good people, creating jealousy of lowlife *******.
the world's turning to ****.

the world will burn, with ashes as soft as the gentle falling snow.
the stars will crash down upon our God forsaken earth.
say your prayers before going to hell, you selfish *******.

worship the flame for the end of days.
incarcerate yourself, shackle your soul to the embers of doomsday.
say your goodbyes to the people you hold dear.
you will soon be one with the stars.
an everlasting being.