They say it's selfish
That it makes you a wimp
But they can't say that
Because they've  never felt it

It's like getting shot
Every time you wake up
Because you know
No one gives a ****

There are so many reasons
Why we take our own lives
If you think it's selfish
You don't want to die
You haven't been broken
You don't wake up and cry
So stop saying it's selfish
To take your own life

They gave me a room
In psychoville,
Three square meals
One red pill,
They gave me a room
In madnessville
Repeat repeat as
Time stood still.
They gave me a room
In suicideville
Thoughts were dark
**** **** ****.
visiting times,
In loonyville
is half past chicory
And quarter to dill.
Push me along in me four wheeled chair
madness lies between thee Apple and pear

A broken house with the shutters torn  
Once a heart full of love, once a world full of stories
I call hello, hello, but no one seems to be home.

You said you were there from the start, when I was born
But you kept your pill bottles, cigarettes, and daily glories.
A broken house with the shutters torn.

The thought of loosing you sticks in my heart like a thorn.
But the hello's I call are thrown into empty quarries.
I call hello, hello, but no one seems to be home.

Like a cycle of memories I am constantly unborn.
A life full of tears, hope, dreams, all turned into miseries.
A broken house with the shutters torn. Imagery

The grass and trees are now dead and now they mourn.
Every sound echoes, in a place that was once a noisy place empties.
I call hello, hello, but no one seems to be home.

You were once my whole life, but now an unborn smile is covered with a scorn.
Love bathed in blood leaving many ripped arteries.  
A broken house with the shutters torn.
I call hello, hello, but no one seems to be home.

As kings who see their little life-day pass,
Take off the heavy ermine and the crown,
So had the trees that autumn-time laid down
Their golden garments on the faded grass,
When I, who watched the seasons in the glass
Of mine own thoughts, saw all the autumn’s brown
Leap into life and don a sunny gown
Of leafage such as happy April has.
Great spring came singing upward from the south;
For in my heart, far carried on the wind,
Your words like winged seeds took root and grew,
And all the world caught music from your mouth;
I saw the light as one who had been blind,
And knew my sun and song and spring were you.

I'm not a poet.
I'm just ******* a lot.