nothing can be done

dark thoughts on a cloudy day in my mind.

I do nothing right, I fight for my mind

but in the end it does not suffice,

I scream, cry and moan because I always end up alone

even if its because of myself.

sitting thinking is deaths true sickness,

we die years before we ever feel that cold embrace.

living in our minds is deaths true kiss, always lost,

broken and floating adrift.

because we can never seem to let go,

What if?

What if?

WHAT IF?

that is what we think as we slowly but willingly

sink into deaths dream.

never to see another day.

JW