should i ? or should i not?
that's a hard choice
if i do , i'll leave my family behind
the person who gave birth to me
who offered me life
if i don't , i'll just be waiting,
in this miserable life
for my miserable beating heart to stop.

Sometimes I look at the old photographs
Pressed between worn out pages
Of times I do not remember,
For the times I keep guarded
I keep no mark of.
So I stare at that little girl
Whose eyes are same as mine
And has seen the same wars as I,
Because the damage was done
When I was a kid.
From then to now
The wars have ceased,
That little girl has seen too much for her age
Than now I ever will.
I wonder when I look at her face,
I fail to connect
That's how I stay away from people.
I wonder if she thought of the future ahead
How her strength then would let her live?
If she knew why she continued to fight ,
If she ever had any hope at all,
Or she thought she couldn't simply die?
Because all I can think now
Is ending it here.
I have hope, I really do
But I look at her decades back
And I don't see the point.
She was so scared, all the time
She had her walls so high
She, the moment she understood
Spent her time wishing to save others.
Her life contained days
That belonged to everyone around,
Her fight thereupon easier.
I guess the problem ensued
When she started to have her own.
I look at her, I look at her
She doesn't look anything like me,
I don't feel anything at all
But pain.
I want to tell her
That is all she will ever feel,
That pain she thought would go away
Would bury itself in her soul
And she will never feel alive again.
I never really recognize her by her looks
It's always how she makes me feel,
I stare at her
And the sadness has remained,
The fear still lines up
And happiness for some people
Is a momentary event
That simply intensifies the pain.

If there’s one
thing that I
crave more
than to be
happy, it’s

                                   death
I don’t want
to end things
by my own
hand, but it

                                   would
not be terrible
for it to happen,
whatever the
method may

                                    be
I feel like an
easy and
quick death
would be

                                    preferable to
pain and
endless hurt
and struggles.
All I have now
with this “gift” of

                                     living
is endless and
painful torment
that usually
only belongs in

                                     hell.

They make us crazy
We have them in our sleep
We think about them in the day
They make us different
Dreams
What is your's?

"I'd die for you," that's easy to say
We have a list of people that we would take
A bullet for them, a bullet for you
A bullet for everybody in this room
But I don't seem to see many bullets coming through
See many bullets coming through
Metaphorically, I'm the man
But literally, I don't know what I'd do
"I'd live for you, " and that's hard to do
Even harder to say when you know it's not true
Even harder to write when you know that tonight
There were people back home who tried talking to you
But then you ignored them still
All these questions they're for real like
Who would you live for?
Who would you die for?
And would you ever ****?

happy birthday to you
this song i sing to you
always a song to you
never a song to me from you

happy birthday to you
this gift is from me to you
a friendship obligation towards you
but never remembered by you

happy birthday to you
here i am eating with you
smiling for the birth of you
while all i had was an online greeting from you

happy birthday to you
perhaps it never crossed you
that i have a birthday just like you
and i have yet to celebrate mine with you