This melodrama I call my life,
A never ending circle of hate,
And an overwhelming distrust,
Is it you or maybe all just me?
It is true, Mom is always right,
I regret my decision everyday,
You are useless and helpless,
Just like I’ve always believed.
I wonder if I were never born,
If the world would ever notice,
Am I the cause or the effect,
Or the byproduct of a failure?
I can’t take the blame anymore,
I can’t tolerate one bit of this,
Am I that much better off dead,
Rather than in a life of yours?
If I had it to do all over again,
Will my fingers hide these eyes,
Long enough for me to relearn,
Good and bad, right and wrong?
Even worse, will I only pretend,
That I am not this empty inside,
To give me strength to return,
Pain I’ve tolerated for so long?
I have this space all of my own,
I am growing or it is shrinking,
These days I feel like exploding,
And attempt not to implode first.
This mess is all I’ve ever known,
The outcome has got me thinking,
I am still here all alone caving in,
Expecting and getting the worst.
I feel as if I am only a waste,
Oxygen quite honestly misused,
Water taken and pissed away,
And a life nobody really needs.
I am counting down the days,
Until the one that I’m rescued,
If it’s the devil or if it’s a saint,
It still beats my so-called reality.