Maybe, I should kill myself?
Surely then they\'d understand.
Thoughts when all the wolrd is ‘gainst me.
No one there to hold my hand.
Surely, they\'d be sorry.
When my body’s in the ground.
Over all the things they said…
Back when I was still around.
In the darkness ‘fore I wrote this.
Grabbed my camp knife, not my pen.
When I realised, I swapped it.
What does that say to you then?
I just hate when people hate me.
When my mother calls me bad.
There is truth in what she says.
And reflection to be had.
Maybe I am selfish.
Here planning my demise.
Wishing somehow it would hurt you.
For the times you made me cry.
But I like my early coffee,
And I know I like you too.
So, let’s make up in the morning.
Like I guess we always do.