I feel like shit before I go to bed
I feel like shit when I wake up

Dreaming of my perfect fantasies
Blocking out my horrid reality.

Some moments I really don't care about life
I know it only takes a few minutes to die!

Having the gull to do so, seems to be the only problem
Hoping that someone will come along to solve them.

Every single night I lay down and think
And wonder what will make my life seem worth it.

I even pray to God, to just riddle me with cancer
Knowing that he hears, but never simply answers.

Does everything always have to be about death?
Why cant I just be happy about being alive?

It's just sad really, that I only think about myself
A never-ending battle to prove oneself.

AN: I think of this as more of a ranting then a poem.