When the future looks bleak,
And it’s a long ways to walk.
Your best friend’s are these sheets,
And there’s no one there to talk.

Empty thoughts,
Depressing dreams,
Fighting tears,
Demonic schemes.

Storms get louder.
The lightning flashes.
Thunder’s taken over.
My strength, it passes.

What’s happened to me?
Why do I want to die?
What’s this I wear?
This pain, that makes me hide.
The pillow that cover’s my face.
That acts as a pencil to erase.
Why do I want no one to say?
Or anyone to know a trace?

It’s cold out there.
Even with this coat.
No scarf, no hat won’t help.
No matter where it’ll breeze.
Word’s make the difference.
You’re ugly will freeze over Hell.

Life’s won again
And again.
No friend
That’ll understand.
The pain that kills me.
The depression will be.
Like a knife that cuts my hand.



So like Robert Frost
Will my life be predestined?
Has my fate, my hope, been chosen?
Which path will I cross?
Is it light? Is it truth?
Or is it cold? Is it frozen?