"If I killed myself today, the sun would still come out, the stars would still shine, so why not?"

Why is that a comfort? A warm, firm hand on my cold heart
The soft touch of a delicate embrace

But, it's supposed to be bad right?

I shouldn't but I want to
I know I can't yet I yearn still
What is wrong with me?
I find solace in strange places
The screaming of thunder storms and harsh blows of the wind
The chaos and pushing of hundreds of bodies against my own
I've learned to like the dark, the ugly, the bad

And it feels good
Why is that so bad?

But if it is so right, why does my heart scream "guilty" ?