Death

My rage and sadness never cease to build.
Joy and happiness never seem to grow.
The happy child that was me, she was killed.
The rivers of blood never cease to flow.

There are ways to see if I am living.
Each of them involve self-inflicted pain.
It's not as bad, this pain that I'm giving.
This is proof that I have nothing to gain.

Would any-ones life change without me here?
When I'm sad, my friends end up sad with me.
Losing my friends is what I always fear.
They will leave me due to my self-pity.

I do question my own mortality.
The will to live, to breath, it's gone from me.