I'm going through a cycle,
That death can only end.
So many mixed emotions,
I cannot begin to comprehend.
Expressing my emotions,
Leads to being an "attention whore"
I do not take the razor to my skin,
But I do start a war.
Holding everything in,
Leads to fake laughs and smiles,
Tears fall when I'm alone,
And the blood pours out for miles.
Sober, I'm depressed,
Drunk, I tell everyone,
High, I'm relaxed,
But all, I just want to be done.
In the end,
I always feel like shit,
So as Darwin would say,
Clearly I'm unfit.