Pressure

I lay my head in my arms wondering,
What I could have done differently,
To make me want to be here anymore.
It’s cold, it’s raining, it’s thundering,
And that’s the only omen that I see,
When I step into the outside world.
I stop, I look around, I find nothing,
To keep up my hope, keep my interest,
For another day, for another eternity.
I keep on falling, I keep on brushing,
The dirt off my knees, the distress,
Off my mind, no matter how dirty,
I still never learn as I really should.
Sometimes I wake up with migraines,
From all of the bullshit in my mind,
And all the pain, the pressure, could,
Make me want to eliminate my pain,
By witnessing everyone I love die.
I feel terrible, It’s not intentional,
But it is just a sickness, a disease,
A need, to remove this infection,
And act like this one dimensional,
Person that I am, with huge needs,
Without a sense of self-direction.
I am a disappointment, I hate this,
Some things never seem to change,
And it’s not worth fighting anymore.
I need more then your love, a kiss,
To help me erase, rewrite this page,
Explaining what I am even here for.

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