Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Jun 2015
It's pointless.
There's no reason for me to live  
When I don't mean anything to anyone
I'm tired of fighting insomnia and depression.
I'm exhausted of fighting my own thoughts.
I'm sick of fighting suicide.
Why should I hold on when I can just give up.
I can't fight my problems alone.
Gun Boy
Written by
Gun Boy  A sick world
(A sick world)   
3.0k
   Kelly, Jane and J
Please log in to view and add comments on poems