I’m not happy
I’ve become intimate with the thought
Of my own cold, isolation
I'm not depressed
I can’t call it that
Even if I wanted too
I have no second opinion
No diagnoses of the problems I think I have
I am no one
Just an attention seeker
A midnight weeper
Crying when i'm alone
And dying when im not
Just who do I think I am
To take their thoughts away from you