I wrote you something. Im so angry. No idea why. The paint peels, the fruit rot, and I am still here. The world spins, the birds chirp, and I am still here. And people ***** and people moan, and they run and they laugh and they cry and they sing and they mourn and they **** and they die. And I am still here. sitting in the dark lit only by candlelight writing in a tiny notebook. writing about how I feel. And I wasnt planning on writing a poem.