I live on the edge
The edge of breaking

I’m always on the verge of crying
Always have that lump in my throat

I’m simply lonely
Can’t feel anything but that, and emptiness

I don’t know what I want
Or who I am
But I know where I want to be
And it’s not here

I surround myself with unread books
Procrastinating because I know
They’ll always be unread anyways
With a bullet in my brain
Everything would be scattered
Just like how I feel
Scattered

I don’t even blame it on depression anymore
I think this is how I am
God ****** up when He created me
I am God’s failed project
Or maybe the angels are up there
Laughing at me
Betting on how long I’ll take this
How long I’ll be able to live while this thing is ******* life out of me and fills me with darkness and sorrow.