My presence is a burden.
The world has no room for a worthless body,
breathing but not mentally present-
each stroke of the razor,
slowly relieving me-
each drop of blood taking my burden off of someone's shoulders.
I was never meant to be here,
so I know the end is almost near.
This pain I feel inside,
sits right next to where emptiness resides.
Some live beautiful lives,
But me, I know I'm meant to die.