My life is so bland
  My heart is so bitter
   My mind is full of lies
    And my lungs feel as if they are collapsing.

Everyday is the same
  It's like I'm not even a living creature
   I feel like a robot
    That is programmed to do the same thing
      Every single day.

Anger laps at my heart
  Like a raging flame
   I clench my fists
    My knuckles turn milky white
     I hate myself so f-cking much.

Everyday I tell myself that I am okay;
  I am all right
   I am alive  
    I tell myself I am beautiful,
     And even though my body is small
      (and very skinny)
        It is unique and perfect.

But I know deep down
  I am nowhere near perfection;
   Nowhere near beauty
    And I know that I am not okay
     I'm not all right
     I am breathing
       But I am d e a d.

My lungs yearn for the cool spring air
  I long to go outside
   While blissfully inhaling
    The smell before the spring shower
     But I can't
      I am stuck in winter,
       I am frozen solid.

I am a burned out light bulb
  I am the worthless blade of dead grass
  I am the hazardous oil that spills into the sea
    I am the gloomy rain clouds
     I am the raging storm.

Basically
  I am worthless
  And everday
   The same question floats into my mind
    "Why am I still breathing?"

the clock reminds me of some time distant
some time when i looked at it and saw silent shadows falling
and earth spinning slower than this
now it spins too fast and all the shadows left and i remain alone
no roof can shelter me from my fears
no arms can caress the surge of panic under my skin
drowsy nights and messy hair
thoughts in disarray and eyes fixed in a horrid stare
turn me into a malady and plant me into a flesh maybe ill do some good there
halt all the thunder and stop all the rain
wrap me in a blanket made of flowers maybe that'll remove the pain
falling into dismay instead of love
and drowning into emotions of a past i once thought was enough
time will pass and the effect of words will wash
and i will be left numb once more and another wave will crash
i could kiss your eyes as you fall asleep
and sing to you and wake feelings that make you weep
instead i will shut you out and away
because in this fort of misfortune alone i must stay

He says, "How many trucks will wreck
On that one stinkin' highway?"
"Many more," I said, "and then the world will end
And no more trucks will wreck on that highway."