The shots never cease.
I’m always burning from within.
Why didn’t I just not panic and let the sadness win.
I guess if you’re hopeless for too long nothing will ever be right.
But it doesn’t matter when it’s you against the mass and you can’t sleep through the night.
Why do I care so much about ounces of hope that come and go?
I guess that’s what happens when you’re always alone.
So as I try not to let them further damage my spirit, I’ll keep trying to be strong but death I still fear it.
I guess I’m nearing the final page, I guess it was always too late. If only I wasn’t so stupid and made such grave mistakes.