The Miserable Thoughts of Death
I am living under a sky of dust.
Nothing has ever been clarified to me.
I don’t know what it feels like, so I’ve never really had the urge to be free.
Every day is torture.
I can hear people in my head whispering, “How can anyone adore her?”
I’ve never had happiness grasped in the palm of my hand.
I’ve been living throughout a miserable land.
My skin is soft to the touch,
Although people don’t touch it that much.
I hold my books to my chest.
People look at me like, “She’s a mess.”
As I stretch out my hand, my mind goes blank.
The only thing that makes me feel worth it is my favorite band.
Veins popping out of my wrist,
I can see the arising mist.
I don’t lie,
But do you know how easy it would be for me to die?
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