My soul is bare, cold and tired,

My heart a prison cell.

I have no inspiration

Just this living hell.

My story is old, all done before,

the meaning is unimportant to those

who's live are empty without themselves

all are included-friends, family and foe.

What joy is life if you can't live it,

to the fullest - thats what they say

Twisted stanzas, rhymes and riddles.

I wish it would go away.

Through all the pain and suffering

Why - should - I - care?

Who is thinking of me?

No one is ever there!

I can't deny the way I feel,

It burn me up inside

The cold, hard facts of life.

Now where can I hide?

These troubles leave bile behind

on my burning land

My personal war, hate and death

Earth crusting away in my hand.

Tell me it will be alright,

that there will be a good day.

Tell me life is worth living,

That a heart isn't far away.

You see, my heart is broken,

Torn in pieces and scattered

across all that ment, anything.

Everything that ever mattered.

Accepting what I am

Is a challenge unto its own

I live in depression

I am always alone

I am so tired of living, of feeling ill

Dying to me isn't such a big deal.

Why am I angry, why am I sad?

I crave these answers I have never had.