Isn’t it utterly excruciating when you don’t want to be alone, but you have no choice?
No choice because no one will ever keep you company
And even those who try cannot suffice that whole in your heart

And that whole just keeps getting wider and wider the older you get
Until this heart hangs by one thread
Tearing, two parts
falling to the ground and shattering apart
Yea, we already past that point aren’t we?

You feel like your ******* going insane
Lost all your marbles
Losing your mind
NO hope
No help
And you know you’re already too far gone to ever be saved
Saved by yourself, another person and even God Himself cannot save you from the fate that awaits because of course he already predestined this to all happen
And you can’t escape you cannot escape the inevitable
It’s impossible
And there’s going to come that day, it always appears in this spiral in hell
That day when its 4 o’clock in the morning and your holding a knife and a hand-full of pills, your knuckles bruised and you’re stained with *****,
You’ll see one thing in sight because this time its different
It’s just so different
And you’ll take the pills and slash your wrists and hang from a rope because you want to make sure that you succeed this time
I can see it how peaceful the bliss of coming home and escaping this hell we were all put on.
Of course I’m already dead I just need to dispose of this corpse roaming the earth taking up space just a waste in the middle of some people’s heaven

Why are the vast majority of poems about love
What, in this emotion, this feeling is so special, so unique
That whenever it is felt in the slightest a beautiful, elegant piece of work is created
To tell you the truth these types of writings I hate
I hate because I envy the happiness of it and even the sorrow without it
I believe them to be sappy fellows without any problems in the world
I presume that those who are in love think these to be the greatest writers
And I think those who write of pain, sorrow, and struggle to be the greatest
But the ones who feel opposite might suspect them to be miserable fellows rambling on and complaining about their sadness

So I guess it depends on your perception and your mood and situation to distinguish the truly talented
The ones to whom you can relate to and fully comprehend