When times are great,
We never ask ourselves why.
We often say that we deserved it,
but that's just a lie.
And when we're feeling down,
When you just wish you could die,
That's when you start to question your position and purpose in life.
You start to question your past,
And grow afraid of your future.
You regret that though choices were vast,
The ones you made were not super.
An optimist won't worry,
they say "It'll all fall in place".
A pessimist feels buried,
Guilty, like a lost case.
I don't know what to think.
and I don't have any answers.
Half my thoughts are scattered ink trails, rain from rambling ranter.
When it comes to life and purpose,
If you were to ask me,
I'd tell you we're all exactly, where we're all meant to be.

Drawn to death like a sick moth to the flame,
The topic's toxic, turn and tossing,
Teeter totter for days,
It seems to follow me, a hollowing,
a carving of hearts,
Darkness trailing, gloom impaling me,
I'm falling apart.
There's art in death, not that it's pretty but well orchestrated
Amidst a somber tune, a hopeful light,
But in the core there's hatred.
An elegy of emptiness..
  A ghastly, dark symphony.
And when I die, please don't cry..
  Just sing for me.

I let the ink spill like i sliced an artery. Then i drink til, my mind's an anomaly.
I think ill, solitude's so ******* me.
On the, brink still, it's a lil disheartening.

But I keep writing anyways.
Believe me, there are many days,
Thinking of a way that I could find to cope with.
The fact I lost someone that I thought I would grow old with.
Sometimes life just isn't fair
And in it, there's no favorites,
Cherish every moment,
Smell the roses, you should savor it.