Crying till I sleep.
Tear soaked* sheets, *depression feeds.
Comes but never leaves.

solía escribirte poemas
dedicarte canciones
pensamientos
suspiros
escritos
tiempo

ahora sólo te dedico espacios
en los que te lloro
te desprecio
te extraño
te echo
de
m
e
n
o
s

What is a* life *worth having,
If the life you have isn't worth living?

I don't know what to write
But do I have something to say?
Life isn't really going well, I mean no ones life is
All I do is rant about how I'm tired of living but what good does that do to me?
Nothing
I just gave up on my whining on my sadness
Ranting about the world no point to it at all
So I just live until death takes me away

It's like I've grown* blind.
*I'm trying, but I can't see
The point anymore.

I could have the map
In my hands and I'd still feel
Absolutely* *lost.