I was thinking of killing myself,

Back in my hometown,

Knife at my throat,

Flooded with the blood I love so much,

To die as an unknown poet,

Seems fitting,

My ego would be satisfied,

I wouldn’t have to answer that age old question,

This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

How much is my art worth,

I could just offer it,

Then be done with the world,

Its not that I hate life,

I just feel like a bystander,

I could judge it,

But to live it, love it, I'd have to work for it,

I wonder if I could cheat life,

Leave these poems,

Then celebrate in the next life,

Life's not bad, but its annoying,

I’d rather shed blood,

Be a mindless killing machine,

A tool for my father,

I hate thinking, I hate caring,

But I care too much,

Deep down there’s so much pain here,

In this thing called living,

Once you begin to hate,

God shows you love,

And you shed a river of tears,

Its painful, and you can’t even hate it,

Just cripple me lord,

I hate seeing it,

I love people so much,

But they’re so stupid,

I don’t talk about it,

But I want to die so much,

But fuck, god, the dream never ends.