I am done with life. I hate myself. I hate people. I want the sweet sent of suicide to rome amongst my feet. I feel of no place for me to be in. I am a disturbance. 

How can I be so ugly in and out. I don't fit in. I am bullied. I am abuse with sounds and fists. I am alone. No one can relate. I am stuck.

I mustn't talk, no, not a sound. It's a sin if expressed. I am the passage way to depression, enjoy the ride while you can. I am sorrow. I am me, the worst to be.

Why must I be alone? What did I do? Well I can't complain, if god did this then what is he to be of heaven. God is the root to all evil. Well in my world he is. Believe and are betrayed.
I don't understand my meaning of life. Why must you drop me from heaven if so then why thee others gracefully down. I hate how I am separate from myself. The different views. The world is a dark place. I feel of nothing to be cheerful of. I am my only friend.

Most of you think, wow, great writing. These are my feelings. This poem is my mind. The only way I can communicate to any other is this, yet they read and just continue life without a doubt, while I am still right here. What have I become, a monster, a guesser.